The Wish of The Master of Death
by Harmonious Cannons
Summary: Harry goes into the forest to destroy the last Horcrux. He ends up upending the course of time. Set in the Marauders' era. Supernatural/Horror/Adventure/Drama. Vigilante action, non-Order affiliation. Features MoD vs Super-Voldemort. M-rating is with good reason. Intermittent Marauder & Lily action.
1. Master, I Bow to Thee

**Master, I bow to thee**

In those last moments of the life Harry was living, he was having his greatest wish fulfilled. He was finally meeting the family he needed all along. He was seeing his real family - his mum, dad, Sirius and Remus. He knew he had summoned their souls, for they resembled the Riddle he had seen in that Diary all those years ago. Yet, they were whole and true. Death, though Harry was facing, he was sure he would go out with a smile.

* * *

James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was wearing the clothes in which he had died and his hair was untidy and ruffled, and his glasses were a little lopsided, like Mr. Weasley's.

Sirius was tall and handsome, and younger by far than Harry had seen him in life. He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

Lupin was younger too, and much less shabby, and his hair was thicker and darker. He looked happy to be back in this familiar place, scene of so many adolescent wanderings.

Lily's smile was widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew close to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough.

"You've been so brave."

* * *

While Harry could see her smile and was warmed by her words, he wasn't prepared for what happened next. All of them dropped their happy and easy demeanours and their faces were filled with anger. "You have been brave," repeated Lily. "But you have also been a colossal fool. Just because that absolute, conniving bastard Snivellus, a powerful practitioner of the mind arts, put something into a dubious memory and deceived you in the same way that he deceived that idiot of a Headmaster, you have decided to sacrifice your life? The very life which James and I, as well as Sirius, died to protect? Yes, there is that fragment; but there are Healers! You could have gotten Gringotts' curse-breakers to do it... there were so many bloody options, damn it!"

Harry almost dropped the stone in shock, but his Seeker's instincts prevented that. "But Snape showed me..." he started dumbly when Remus interrupted, "And since when exactly has Snivellus had your best interests at heart? We made the mistake of trusting Dumbledore's word on him. See where it got us. Why are you making the same mistake?"

This completely destroyed everything that Harry had decided. What was he to do now? He felt bewildered. He was wasting time. Voldemort would not allow anyone to live if he wasn't put down. Evidently James and Sirius saw the tumult on the Prongslet's face. Remus and Lily did have good intentions, but scolding him for doing what he was conditioned to do all his life wasn't the answer. Harry needed help.

"Shut it, you two!" Sirius reprimanded his friends. "You aren't really helping him. He is getting more and more confused by the minute. And he doesn't have time." Soul-Sirius exchanged a devious glance and smirk with Soul-James, who nodded.

"Son, you need another plan. Are you willing to use ours?" James asked. Harry nodded dumbly. "Then get ready to prank Voldemort big time. I promise you that will like the outcome."

* * *

"No sign of him, my Lord," said Dolohov.

Voldemort's expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. Slowly he drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.

"My Lord —" Bellatrix had spoken: She sat closest to Voldemort, disheveled, her face a little bloody but otherwise unharmed.

Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word, but eyed him in worshipful fascination.

"I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. "I expected him to come. It seems I was wrong."

Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside.

* * *

His hands were sweating as he drew his wand, standing behind his enemy. He cast an area wide stunner, silently. In that moment every Death Eater dropped as he drew on the power he knew not- he was to be the Master of Death.

"Accio Elder Wand!" he bellowed, surprising old Snake-face. Voldemort whipped around as Harry caught the Elder Wand with tremendous dexterousness.

"Potter, come to meet your Death at last?" Voldemort asked, a slight tremble giving away the fear he felt at the loss of the most powerful wand.

In a fit of bravado, Harry held in his hand the Wand, the Stone, and the Cloak, and displayed it to Voldemort. He mocked the villain. "Tom, Tom, Tommy-Tee-Tom-Tom!" he singsonged. "Tom you still remain ignorant as always. Why will I meet my Death yet? No, you see, I am now the Master of Death. Quite the foolish thing it was, making a Horcrux of the Resurrection Stone." In his fright and anger, Voldemort had lost control over Nagini's magical cage, something that Harry was quick to spot. As the snake slithered up to him, rearing to attack, Harry nonchalantly hurled a slicing hex at it. The destruction of the Horcrux was unmistakable. He taunted Riddle more, blocking out the pain from his scar. "Oh! Sorry there, mate. Destroyed your last anchor, didn't I? A diary, a cup, a crown, a locket, a snake and a ring- wow, you do love gathering trinkets, you naughty thief!"

And then, Harry did something that Voldemort would have never expected at all. He sent a body-bind curse, a tickling hex and an itching hex at the fiend in quick succession and watched the madman go... mad. It was antithetical, anticlimactic and yet mad in every way that he had expected the final battle to be. Voldemort's screams rang through the forest, as Harry looked at the writhing thing dispassionately. Finally, he raised the Elder Wand and pointed it at Voldemort's head. With all the rage and hatred that he held for the thing, he bellowed, "REDUCTO!"

And then, all went black.

* * *

"Did someone get the number of the truck that ran me over?" Harry asked as he woke up from the slumber that had gripped him. It was aimed at nobody in particular.

"Here, Master," said a solemn, if mirthful voice, holding out a hand...or something like it...for Harry to hold on to. Harry shook his head like a dog and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

"Who are you?"

"I am the One. I am also the one who in your realm would be known as 'Death' among other things."

"WHAT?" Harry yelled. "I bloody killed Voldemort! How the hell can I be dead?"

"He never said that you were dead, Harry," a new voice interrupted them. James and Lily, Sirius, and Remus had come into the room, or whatever it was that he could call it.

At Harry's befuddled expression, Lily started explaining. "He simply introduced himself as 'Death'. That and he called you 'Master' – though that is a misnomer, if there was ever one," she added apologetically to the figure that stood beside Harry.

The man, for the only way to discerning anything about his shapeless self was the voice which sounded male, snorted. "They didn't call you the brightest witch of your generation for nothing, my flower-child. That is true. The Master of Death thing is just another thing that foolish, power-hungry wizards and witches have turned into a legend. No, young Peverell, there really is nothing as being the 'Master' of Death. Life and Death, Time, and Actions and Reactions are probably the only true elements of the universe. All are derived therefrom. I say that I am 'Death' because well..." the figure suddenly sounded sheepish, "I like to joke every now and then, and Antioch and Cadmus were bloody slow. Only Ignotus caught on to the joke. So I felt like giving him a boon that whoever brought my gifts together could ask for and have their greatest wish fulfilled. That's where the legend came from. And that's why you are here."

"So I am dead, now?" Harry asked in a small voice, fearing the wrath of his family.

"You sure he isn't adopted, Lily, Prongs?" Sirius asked. "He seems too slow to be your sprog." He let his face remain unaffected, even at Harry's glare.

"What to say, Padfoot, it happens sometimes," replied James in an aggravated manner. "He is our kid. I was there when he was made and when he was born, so you can take my word for it." Lily and James looked at the others smugly while the rest all blanched at the description.

"Please don't poison my poor little mind with such images!" Harry croaked, to fervent nods by Remus and Sirius.

"Well, I wouldn't need to do that if you stopped being stupid, would I?"

The powerful entity was troubled by this. He had known that the young Peverell was his hand to deal with the one who tried to cheat nature, tried to cheat death. That was why he had given the child powerful and wise, as well as clever parents, and a similar mate. The child himself would be far more powerful, and with a wisdom and cleverness comparable to the parents and mate, at the very least. The entity never meddled with things once he set them into motion; never actively observed the lives of even his own minions. It had therefore been a shock to see the parents in his realm so young and so early. Yet he had not meddled. He would only judge actions and reactions of those that populated the universe. Indeed, when the first part of the Cheater's soul had turned up, he had been happy that things were still progressing by the necessities of nature. But then the father by oath had come into his realm. And yet, there was only that one bit that had come to his realm. He had still not made a move. But when the foul bits started turning up with regularity, he felt vindicated- till he had felt his hand in the war ready to come to his realm as a failure, summoning the souls of those that he had sent to aid him. That was when he had asked the child's father and oath-bound father to bring him to the realm between realms. His inaction meant that he had to accept the insult of having an equal in powers, if for a little while.

He swam through the child's memories. It caused anger, tremendous anger. The young Peverell had been treated badly. He had been betrayed by everyone. He had been destroyed. And yet; and yet, the child had not lost his spirit, had not lost the determination to win, to succeed at any cost. The omnipotent entity rushed through everything that had occurred around his hand. He found out how he had been betrayed, who had betrayed him. And yet the young one held love and mercy. That had been his fatal flaw. No. The hand had not managed to succeed, but it wasn't his fault. It was the entity's, to an extent. The One freed his Hand of all the unnatural and external influences.

"Silence!" ordered the One. "Sit down, young Peverell. I need to confer with your family." He beckoned the four to him.

"Your son has been betrayed by all, James." The omnipotent One, with the potency to be omniscient when he needed to be, showed the four all that the Hand had borne. "He lost you all and even his mate, though the mate did not die. Even the mate was scared of my Hand's destiny. She shall be punished in due course of time, if he so chooses, though he shall not know. Though, the path she has chosen is a punishment by itself." By now, Lily was in tears, while Remus and Sirius had to control James from becoming a demon and destroying the Wizarding World. "I know my mistakes and failures in this. I let things escalate. And so I will do something I have only done twice before, times that I shall not tell you about. I shall rewrite time, and then some." Lily gasped through her tears, thanking him for the boon for her child.

The One turned to Harry. "Young Peverell, by bringing together my three gifts to your line, you have become worthy of the boon. But I shall not stop there. I shall rewrite time. I shall rewrite it to make mission a success. You shall tell me when, for you shall participate in that time again, with all your memories intact. You were my Hand to bring about Voldemort's defeat, and my plans were destroyed by a fake prophecy. When I send you back now, you shall be well-equipped to be judge, jury and executioner, beyond the laws of mortals."

Harry thought about what he truly ever wanted- his parents, Sirius, Remus and all their friends, as well as Hermione and Ron and all his friends alive, safe and happy. He wanted to meet his grandparents. He wanted to live happy without the spectre of Voldemort hanging upon him. He wanted that more than anything else. He looked to his father. But most of all, he wanted the war dead even before it ever started, even before his parents would have to fight for their, and his, lives. It had been his greatest fantasy, a 'What If' of gargantuan proportions. He looked to his father.

"Who was the fifth bloke in your dormitory, dad?" he asked.

"Nobody, son," James answered not being able to catch up with Harry's thoughts.

Harry grinned and asked the One, "Before you have my answer, would you answer a very important question? You see, I have combined your three gifts, and you choose to rewrite time. Would you grant me my greatest wish and combine it with your rewriting of time, please?"

"What are you up to?" the One asked suspiciously. He could have looked if he wanted to. But he didn't and wouldn't. "To answer your question, yes, I could do that."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Harry. "So well, here goes. You know that I have always wanted my family back. And you intend to send me back into the rewritten time with my memories, don't you?" The One answered in the affirmative.

"Then I wish that you will let me have my ideal scenario. My paternal grandparents should have at least two more children after dad- an aunt and an uncle for me, and my mum should have a magical brother. And when you rewrite time, I should be me, but considered a muggle-born, yet keep my abilities of Parseltongue. I want to be the fifth boy in the Gryffindor dormitory, the fifth marauder. I won't have the bloody scar thing. I'll strive to destroy Voldemort before my seventh year, and will disappear when it is time for me, that it is Harry James Potter, son of James Charlus Potter and Lily Marie Evans-Potter to be born, but only after telling them who I was. In the meantime, I will need somebody trustworthy and powerful to help me. I would want Charlus and Dorea Potter and Matthew and Rose Evans, my grandparents to be the ones; but I will need someone else to help me while at school and one more person to help with fights and interrogation. With all due respect, dad, Padfoot, mum, I would choose Moony and Mad-Eye. They should let me deal with Voldemort to a large extent, but protect me from outside influences. They should know who I am. And it would be easier if you would reinsert me, physically, into time from September 1, 1971."

Everything and everyone was silent for some time. And then Sirius, Remus and James all started laughing hard. Even Lily was laughing, though not as uproariously, while The One made an odd, disgruntled sound. Finally Sirius spoke. "Prongslet I knew you had it in you! Pranking the highest power in the Universe! That is bloody exceptional!" he said joyfully, before breaking out into chants of "He is a Marauder!"

The One had a clause however. "I will do that. But you will have to sacrifice two things. I will give you three options. As with the Hallows you were three who went after the Death Cheater's soul. They will be part of the sacrifice. For one, Hermione Granger will not be a witch and therefore not a friend of Harry Potter because he will never meet her. Your second option is sacrificing any love you have felt and has been returned by the Weasley family. They will be acquaintances at best. And three, you will have to return any two of my three gifts when it is time for Harry Potter to be reborn."

For Harry, one option was a no-brainer. There was simply no necessity for any one person to wield that much power. And he knew that he had been tricked into combining the Deathly Hallows. So option three was a surety. And he could still keep the cloak. Speaking of the cloak...

"Dumbledore and Moody had monitoring charms on the cloak. It is not spell proof. That is how they knew that you were there."

"Oh."

"Choose fast, young Peverell."

Choosing between the first two options was difficult for Harry. On one hand the Weasleys had been the surrogate family for him, and if he had survived the war, or if things had been different, maybe he would have come to love Ginny truly, more than the passing fancy that she was. While it was true that he would never truly forgive Ron for his umpteenth desertion, he was still the first friend Harry ever had. Yet, yet, hadn't Mr. and Mrs. Weasley been the first adults to ever be truly good to him and sustain it? He couldn't wish to sacrifice his ties with them, just because of Ron and his insecurities.

On the other hand, there was Hermione. Harry did not need to think too much to know that whatever good or bad in his life was, every single of those moments had her supporting him, helping him, standing with him to the very end. She had been the one person he would trust above and beyond anyone else. She had been the first to show him affection, and dare he say it, even a smidgen of love. Ron may have been his first friend, but Hermione... Hermione was his best friend, his... Harry's eyes widened at the implications. And in that moment he felt jealousy and resentment for Ron. Thankfully, nobody commented on that. With that, Harry's choice was made.

She had chosen him, in life, at a time when she could have saved herself unbearable pain and sorrow. She had chosen **_him_**. And he would choose her. For in life, who had been the one, true constant?

"I will give up any deep relation with the Weasleys. And I will return the wand and the Stone when the time comes. But Hermione – she has to always be my friend." From their position behind the One, his family smirked as one.

"Your wish shall be granted young Peverell. Remus Lupin will be returned to you after the first full moon that you spend with him in control of his alternate form. Mad-Eye Moody will be returned after the first fight of Diagon Alley sometime around Christmas'71."

Harry nodded. It was then that his family came up to him. "Harry, we will now be gone from this realm; all of us except Moony. So I want you and him to change some things, beyond the obvious," Lily said.

"What is it mum?"

"In all truthfulness, I was often quite stupid in matters related to my relationships with people."

"WHAT?"

Harry had always heard about the Marauders' stupid antics. While Snape had done a lot to paint them in a bad light, Moony and Padfoot had also taken the time to explain that often it was vigilantism. Did they go a bit too far, too often in that job? Absolutely. But it also gave the victims of the baby Death Eaters some sort of closure.

His mother on the other hand, no matter who spoke about her, was always portrayed positively. Well, unless it was a bigot talking, in which case it was only racial slurs. Now that he thought of it, nobody who remembered her in a positive way ever treated her as being human. But to hear her admit to being to being a bit stupid was very uncomfortable to digest.

"Yes. I am sure you have heard how stupid these idiots were, and they did cross the line far too often, but I was stupid as well. I adhered to my one ' ** _friend_** _',"_ she spat, "because he was the one who introduced me to magic. Severus was once a kid, and as a kid, he was not necessarily a bad person. I can understand you inheriting James' hatred of him in response to Severus' own behaviour." Harry truly couldn't see where it all was leading to. "We were friends Harry. Were we really friends? I don't know. When this all will start in your perspective, I will be a girl who will not have the guts to let go of a friendship that hurt my other friendships and indeed, could have permanently driven me away from James. I want you to make me look at things objectively. Don't hurt Snape. But don't let me become too reliant on him either."

Harry understood. Wasn't that what had happened to Hermione as well? He would try. He couldn't promise not hurting Snape, and said so.

"It should only be retaliatory," The One cautioned.

The three Marauders and Harry shared shrugs and frowns of distaste.

* * *

Lord Charlus Potter of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter was a man of tremendous political savvy. Having graduated with honours and as a Head Boy, He had entered the force as an Auror and had fought alongside Dumbledore against Grindelwald, as well as served in the British army. He had married Dorea Black, the youngest sister of Lord Arcturus Black, a woman of tremendous intelligence, elegance and grace as well as beauty. He was not particularly enthusiastic about marrying a woman whom he had known as the Head Girl of the previous year upon graduation, not least because of the name that the Blacks carried, along with their difficult political agenda. But he had grown to love her, eventually. His marriage now was a happy one, with three children.

James, the eldest and his heir was a complete copy of Charlus. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that he would grow up to be like his father, at least in looks. Darrene and Eldric, the twins, were born within a year and quarter in June 1962. The twins had taken slightly after the Black side, but retained much of the Potter looks. The three were his pride and his greatest loves. He had often teetered on spoiling them rotten, but his wife had always been there to rein them all in.

Matthew Evans was a simple officer in the local government office. He had once been in the army, but after the war- which he had emerged from aged just fifteen, as a self-appointed rescue worker in North London- he had started working at a shop while simultaneously working on a degree in accountancy. He had during the course met Rose Jacobs and their friendship had turned into love over a period of three years.

They had two daughters, Petunia, the elder, and Lily the younger, and a son, two years Lily's junior. He loved them immensely and had a really happy life.

What bound these two couples was their unborn grandson. The One had long since started rewriting time. When he reached the point where Lily's status as a witch was known to the Evans', he decided that it was time to summon the two couples. In a dream state, Charlus, Dorea, Matthew and Rose were now in the realm of the One.

"Where are we?" "What is going on?" "Who are you?" "Why are we here?" The simultaneous questions by the four created a chaos in the reverberating room, their voices echoing off every place.

"Silence, my children," the One ordered, appearing in the room with Harry, looking like his four year old self, hiding behind the One.

"What – Who are you?" Charlus ventured, voicing the same question that everyone else had.

"You should know, Charlus. I **_was_** the one who gifted the cloak to your ancestor, and a wand and a stone to his brothers..."

"What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?"

"You prove to be just as impetuous as young James, as well as young Harry here, Charlus. But let us get on with our discussions." The One allowed some chairs for the humans. He then ushered Harry ahead to his side and gently plopped him onto a chair. Harry swung his legs nonchalantly as they hovered above what passed as the floor, and waved to his grandparents whom he was seeing for the first time. Instantly the two women looked at the adorable child and introduced themselves. The One chuckled. "Do not let his appearance fool you, ladies. I am training him to be a hardened killer, but the only thing he has got down to a jot is being an impish little lady-killer. If things go as the child and I want them to go, you all will be safe, and will actually be carrying this little tyke around in ten to fifteen years time."

The ladies paid him very little heed. It fell to Matthew to ask, "Who is he?"

"Why, he is your grandson – you are all his grandparents!" That shocked them all. The One continued nevertheless. "Oh! Don't be surprised! Charlus, Dorea, describe him for us, will you?"

There were hardly a few things that managed to discombobulate Lord Charlus Potter, but this weird dream or whatever it was, where he was meeting a – an entity and a little boy who was apparently his grandson, certainly managed it. But now that he did take a good look at the child, he could see that the startlingly green eyes were framed by a very familiar face, one that he saw daily in the mirror, or when he looked at his son James. It wasn't a similarity of facial features; it was congruence. The boy was a Potter alright, except for the eyes, which weren't like Dorea's either. Looking around, he saw the other man observing him and the child, and...He was startled to see the same almond-shaped green eyes. It did not take much imagination to realise that if nothing else, at least this part of his dream was true. Clearly the child was related to both him and this other man. In that moment, they exchanged a glance of understanding.

Rose was having none of it. "Excuse me, would you please tell us what all this is about? Who are you? Who are they? Why have you brought us here? Why are you showing us this... this, whatever it is?"

"Peace, my lady," The One intoned gravely. "I am, as Harry here calls me, the One. I am in reality, the one in charge of this Universe. I am the arbiter of time, life, death, actions and reactions, cause and effect, nature, and am the judge of all that is, was or will be."

"So are you God?" Rose asked the One gravely.

"That is one of the ways I am perceived in the mortal realm, yes."

"You are Death!" exclaimed Charlus, all of a sudden comprehending the reference to the cloak, stone and wand.

With a smile in his voice, for the One had no face, He answered, "You are somewhat correct." He shimmered a bit, and a book appeared in Charlus' hands. It was 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'.

"Read the story out aloud Charlus."

* * *

"' _There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure._ **("That was Death," Charlus explained.)**

"' _And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him._

"' _So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother._

"' _Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead._

" _'_ _And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility._ '"

"' _Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts._

"' _In due course the brothers separated, each for his respective destination._

" _'_ _The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible._

" _'_ _That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat. And so Death took the first brother for his own._

"' _Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him. Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her. And so Death took the second brother for his own._

" _'_ _But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.'_ "

* * *

"An interesting tale," Matthew remarked. "But it explains nothing."

"Indeed," agreed The One. "But that is because I haven't explained anything. Say, Matthew, Rose, Charlus, Dorea, do you want me explaining things or Harry putting it across bluntly for you?"

"I would rather that- Harry did you say? – explain it to us. You are behaving like Dumbledore." It was evident that it wasn't the right thing to say.

"Do not compare me to that idiot, Charlus!" The One scolded. "He is one of the reasons why I have had to take the steps that I have. I have had to rewrite time, a time when the entire Potter Family was killed by an upcoming Dark Lord and his minions, suffered tremendous betrayals from friends and what not! And chief among those betrayers was a best friend of each of James and Lily! And then there was that stupid man you seem to revere! He is just as bad, and about the only thing helping him to keep away the tag of a traitor is the fact that he is an absolute fool!"

Charlus was shocked by the amount of emotion pouring from the One. Harry intervened. "Lord Potter," Harry started respectfully and warmly, "this is a touchy topic for him. I think it would be best if I tell you everything. I am not from your time, but I'll be, just before the first of September 1971. The One has been teaching me everything that I need to know, or rather have to know to combat the Dark Lord. You see, time had already progressed right up to the year 1998, specifically the 2nd of May, 1998, for me. I am Harry James Potter, born on the 31st of July 1980, to James Charlus Potter and Lily Marie Evans-Potter. The war against the upcoming Dark Lord was reaching a crescendo, and he was winning. Then some idiotic tramp woman spat a prophecy to get the Divination job at Hogwarts, and I, along with a friend were the two possible ones to kill this Dark Lord. My Parents went into hiding but were killed on the Halloween night of 1981!"

There were gasps from both the couples at that.

"This Dumbledore dumped me on the doorstep of Petunia Evans-Dursley, and my next ten years were bad – to put it lightly – owing to my aunt and her family..."

"That's impossible!" Rose shouted- actually shouted. "My Petunia won't do anything to her own nephew! I refuse to believe you!"

Harry turned his cold gaze at his grandmother. "It is none of my business what you think of your elder daughter, Mrs. Evans (Rose flinched horribly at being addressed so formally and coldly by a four year old masquerading as her grandson), all I care is that Lily Evans should live a long and happy life. If I never saw your other daughter's face, it will be too soon. If you talked to your magical daughter, you will find that she is extremely hurt by her sister's cold, hateful and jealous behaviour. Only your son, Dennis is her solace along with that despicable friend of hers, Severus Snape. Dennis Evans is a magical as well. But that is a pointless discussion. My job is, effectively, to be a bodyguard and friend to your children, to be a vigilante for the Wizarding world, and to bring down the Dark Lord before it claims the lives of so many innocent people. I grew up bereft of any sort of love, but – call me selfish, if you will – but when Harry James Potter will be born again to your children, I will be cleansed of all memories, of all taints, and of all past pains. That is all I care about. I am coming into your time as a mercenary. Over the first six years at Hogwarts, I lost more people that I cared for, including my Godfather who died while saving me, as also another friend of my father. I knew the ways to defeat him once and for all. And I want that to happen before he hurts my family."

The One's warning about there being more to the boy than his appearance rang true now. This was a cold person that they faced, not a child. The One broke their musing by showing them all 'clips' of Harry's life, and also their lives in the alternate timeline that was now being overwritten. Charlus' blood ran cold to think of life without Darrene and Eldric. Rose found her daughter's behaviour true over Lily's life and even irksome. But the only thing that stopped her from giving her daughter a piece of her mind for her treatment of Harry was the fact that nothing had yet happened from her perspective. At least Lily had Dennis.

When the One was done, he spoke again. "You may all be wondering why I have brought you here. When I send Harry, my Hand to deal with the problem of the Dark Lord, he will need help. On your part, Charlus, Dorea, he will need a magical guardian. And you, Matthew, Rose, will be his muggle liaison. He will live primarily at..."

"The Leaky Cauldron, during the summers and Christmas, and Hogwarts during Easter. Christmas will be dedicated to exterminating all threats to the continued survival of the Potter, Evans and other families. That is the time when I will need alibi and an operational base near your home. I shall not intrude on the Evans Family, unless specifically invited by my would-be mother. The Christmas time will see me keeping appearances in Diagon Alley, while living at a house near yours."

"Absolutely not!" protested Dorea. "He is my grandson! He should live at his ancestral home..."

"With my father who doesn't know that the person going around as his friend is his son? Not bloody likely! I am, for all intents and purposes a hitman. My place is not in a manor, but in places like Knockturn Alley, taking out the hostiles cleanly and efficiently, your Grace."

"Couldn't you call us all grandpa or grandma at least?" Rose asked, cringing at the way the boy, seemingly of barely four, spoke.

"I am sorry, Mrs. Evans. I never met any of you before. Due to this Dark Lord, and people, or rather the sheep of the magical world not taking up the responsibilities and just listening to the old fool, it has fallen to me to correct the course of things. It would not do for me to slip and call you by your familial appellations. And let me be frank. The only relative I had – blood relative, that is – your elder daughter, left a terrible mark on me. You did not have a son. I once had an infinite capacity to love. Not anymore, I am now just cold and unfeeling, and fearless. The One has had me practicing with boggarts, and those things do not change to depict anything anymore. I am now a machine. As things stand, I am not exactly human anymore, but the very nature of judgement, the Hand of the One to execute punishment, as and when I see fit, but bound to His rules of righteous justice."

Rose felt inordinately guilty for the way things were for the boy. Matthew however needed proof to believe it.

"Mr Evans, you have visited Diagon Alley, have you not? Decide a date between yourselves and the Lord and Lady Potter. Meet up. Decide a codeword now, one pair each between each pair. One each between Lord and Lady Potter, one each between Mr. and Mrs. Evans, one each between Mr. Evans and Lady Potter, another two between Mr. Evans and Lord Potter, and yet another two each between Lord Potter and Mrs. Evans and Lady Potter and Mrs. Evans. That makes twelve. If, when you meet in the physical plane, the codewords match, you will have proof that at least the current situation that you find yourselves in is true. You shall meet me on the station at Christmas; I shall provide oath of truth then. We shall decide codes between us; and they may not necessarily be words or passwords, but spells that you and I may shoot at each other, or subtle objects that I may handle in the Evans' home. We have to be constantly vigilant!" _"Great,"_ thought Charlus. _"Now we have another Alastor Moody."_

"What about the trace?" Dorea asked.

"Lady Potter," answered The One, "you have finally touched the reason why I had Charlus read that story.

"Have you ever heard about the legend about the 'Master of Death'? That is why I had Charlus read the story, after all..."

Neither Charlus and Harry nor the One were surprised when Dorea gasped. The Blacks were always obsessed with power, so even if she no longer kept contact with her Dark Family roots for the most part, she would still know what it all would mean. Matthew and Rose looked at her askance.

"It is believed that the Peverells were the three brothers in the story that Charlus read. The Elder wand given to Antioch, the Resurrection Stone given to Cadmus and the Invisibility Cloak of Death himself given to Ignotus are supposed to be the Three Deathly Hallows. It is believed that anyone who combined the three would be the Master of Death."

"Very good!" applauded the One. "Now, let me tell you that I did give those gifts as a joke to those Peverells, but only Ignotus really got it. And that...is the cloak you own, Charlus." Discounting the astounded expressions on the audiences' faces, the One pushed on. "Dumbledore has the wand, but Harry won it. The Gaunt family ring contained the Stone, which again was passed on to Harry here. Harry is the Master of Death. He became that at about the very time that he was about to sacrifice himself to prevent this Dark Lord from winning and destroying life as the mortals knew it. In reality, he is my Hand. As Harry now commands the three hallows, the wand and stone will come to him, once the curses on the stone are dealt with. Keep the cloak with James. Harry, however, will command it when he needs it." Dorea and Rose had tears in their eyes as they heard all that. They'd long since accepted Harry as their grandson in their hearts.

"What would you have us do?" asked Matthew at long last.

"Initially, I will need an isolated piece of land. I request Lord Potter to have this land ward-layered to the greatest possible extent. I shall of course add my own wards. This will serve as my torture, execution and planning centre in no particular order. All costs will be reimbursed from my account, as soon as I start earning it. Further plans will be intimated to all allies at appropriate times. Your other duties as liaison will be to treat me as a normal friend of your son/daughter. That is all."

"You heard the kid. I will now send you back to your realms. Be ready. The times ahead are difficult," cut in the One.

* * *

It was the evening of the 29th of July, when Albus Dumbledore was disturbed by a sudden apparition in his office. And even if he was scared out of his wits, he hadn't let his fear show, to his eternal credit. He never realised anything as he was suddenly introduced to a muggle-born student, Hadrian Evan Jameson, who took his prized Elder wand, was admitted to the school with the records showing that his fees had been paid for all seven years. He never realised either, when the Wand was replaced by his real wand, transfigured to look like the Elder Wand, with the brother of his original wand sitting in its place. He never remembered the visit either.

* * *

On the 31st of July, Matthew and Rose Evans stood outside the place where they knew the Leaky cauldron to be, even if they couldn't see it. They awaited the Potters, who they were hoping had the same dream as they, a dream where they had met their grandson. They were sincerely hoping that it wasn't all just a hoax, a hallucination. Thankfully, they didn't have to wait long. A couple suddenly appeared at a spot across the road they had been staring at for the past seven minutes. The Evans' watched the two people hurry across the road, approaching the Leaky Cauldron.

The two couples caught each others' eyes and the Potters shepherded the Evans' into the Leaky Cauldron. With a quick exchange of passwords, they settled at the reserved table.

Matthew started the introductions. "It is a great pleasure to meet you in person at last. I am Matthew Evans. Milord, please allow me to introduce my wife, Rose Evans."

Charlus kissed Mrs. Evans on the knuckles of her right hand and shook Matthew's hand firmly, all with a broad smile. "Please, drop the Lord business. We are after all here to discuss the requests of the astonishing young man we will one day have as our grandson. I am Charlus, and this is my wife Dorea. Do call us by our given names please. While it may seem improper, we already know a part of our future. So we might as well be friends already."

"Thank you, Charlus. I can't dispute your judgement at all." Matthew withdrew a sheaf of documents from his bag. "These are the documents for a House and some attached land up near just past North London, outside the city. And this is one for a flat near our place. We got the one outside London cheap. Rather ironic that the entire land was supposed to be haunted. While it doesn't seem the wisest idea, it seemed to make sense when we saw that it was large, isolated geographically, and people kept away from it. What was it that Harry asked you to do? Yes the setting up wards. We hoped whatever the mal-intent was, could be eliminated. The house seems to have dungeons too." Matthew clearly thought that it was a great idea. Charlus looked through the documents and let out a low whistle when he saw the plan for a one acre plot.

The two families proceeded to chat about various things about the Magical world and the mundane world before departing. A few tables behind them, a ghostly-boy smiled to himself. Hadrian Jameson's grandparents had done a ruddy good job.


	2. A New Dawn at Hogwarts

**A New Dawn at Hogwarts**

The 1st of September dawned bright and dry, and also a tad bit warm. For several students crossing across to platform 9 ¾, it was a fairly exciting day. But for one student it wasn't. No. For Hadrian Evan Jameson, muggle-born, first-year student, it was the start, the dawn of time as decided by the One who wielded him as his Hand. Having arrived at the station at half past seven, he had proceeded to set up watch points, monitoring charms, eavesdropping charms, several spots surrounded by notice-me-not charms, muggle repellent charms on several spots outside the station, and so on and so forth. Each point was selected with care, so that through all the magical monitoring system he had set up, he would get a combined view of the entire area of platforms 9 and 10, as well as the sole magical platform. They were also apparition points for him. Then there was a station wide magical detector, one to detect any unaccounted for magical presence. He had a copy of students' lists, after all. The train would chug in at ten, but he was there to observe every person around. It was necessary to do so.

For here, he was on a reconnaissance mission. He had probable targets to look up till Christmas, people to intimidate, cowards to subjugate and threats to eliminate. He was a soldier, an assassin on a mission. It was not the people so much as the ideology that he had to get rid of. He had an entire generation to protect, and the only way to do it was to nip any diseased, infested branch while it was but a twig. It was important. It was necessary, but not sufficient.

He had already decided to find a compartment to sit alone in. It was not prudent to interact with any of the subjects of protection, nor the people of interest. It was important to keep two faces. One would be good ol' Hadrian Jameson. The other would be the Hand. He knew for sure that there would be two subjects coming in through the muggle side- Lily Evans and family, and Remus Lupin with his parents. But there would also be at least one person of interest- Severus Snape.

By ten thirty, he had spied and observed the Mulcibers, Notts, Averys, Malfoys, Runcorns, Wilkes', Lestrange Brothers, Rowles and the Rosiers. He found that not all of them were the ones Hadrian Potter had known and battled. That meant that among these Persons-of-Interest, there were several who had died in the first war. There were no Jugsons, no Walden McNair, no Selwyns, no Parkinsons, no Crabbes and Goyles, no Travers', and no Gibbons, Yaxleys, Carrows or Crouches. He needed complete information on these individuals, so scouting them out was an important task which he couldn't delegate to Lord Potter. He knew that Rookwood was already a part of the Ministry, and he was in a very powerful, sensitive and secret position. He had to be taken out first, fast and without any allusion. Augustus Rookwood would not be missed. There was also the threat of the likes of Dolohov and Karkaroff from the continent. The most troublesome would be the cannon fodder- basically half-bloods and people like Pettigrew, who would be on the fence and easily swayed by power.

* * *

The Potters and the Blacks came in almost simultaneously at half past 10, and it was great to see that James was quite a bit less arrogant. He had sent Legillimency probes at the two boys. Sirius was still the same. James was so too, but now his self-centred tendencies and inflated ego were tempered heavily by his love for the younger siblings with whom he was very close. He was proud, fun-loving and a prankster, yes, but not a bully, which he had sometimes been for Hadrian's father. Then there was Regulus. He was a person the Hand had to save. Of all the Death Eaters that there were, Regulus was the one who came closest to earning redemption, and had failed only because he had died. He would need to be protected.

At just after 10.35, Hand saw the Lupins enter the station. He looked careworn, poor and sickly- not surprising since the full moon was on Saturday the 4th. He needed to help Moony, Hadrian thought, before mercilessly quashing that line of thought. He was the Hand, a man on a mission. He couldn't get entangled in such things deeply, even if he would befriend the subjects. He still wished he could have helped the lycanthrope by being an animagus already, but he knew that it could be achieved by a mortal only in the mortal realm. It would make him a good ally, useful when it would come to killing Fenrir Greyback. But there was no need to actually condition him. Once the Hand attained his animagus form, Remus Lupin with all his wisdom, knowledge and memories would be sent back to help him.

Barely had the Lupins gone in, when The Evans' and Snapes came in. For the Death Eater, it was a classic case of crude mother, stern father. He had checked into the bastard's history. All that Tobias ever did was put down Eileen's compulsive denigration of all things muggle. She had been a slightly flighty woman in her youth, and when she was pregnant with Severus, Tobias had married her. The truth was that neither truly loved each other, but soldiered on for their son. Tobias wasn't abusive. Stern and strict, certainly, but Tobias Snape was no bully as Snape painted him to be to Lily, the lying creep. He silently cast an age-maturing hex that would lower Snape's inhibitions against showing his true colours to Lily, while also causing his worst traits to rear their heads all the time. It wouldn't be abrupt, but gentle, almost parabolic if one were to draw a graph.

The Evans' on the other hand seemed to dote on their daughters, particularly, given the situation, Lily. Lots of hugs and kisses were thrown in, and she was certainly the apple of their eye. There were also a few tears on Mrs. Evans' part. Slimeball Snape was looking at the family gathering as if he had swallowed a lemon. Good. Petunia was looking as if Lily was something particularly nasty and disgusting. Little Dennis was sad that his big sister was going away, and sadder still because she was crying. _"Time to move in on subject,"_ the Hand decided.

Assuming an appropriately scared, yet nervously excited expression, Hand moved towards the Evans'. "Er... please excuse me, ma'am, would you please tell me how to, er...?"

"Cross the station?" asked Rose benevolently.

"Yes. I mean, I saw your daughter was carrying similar things to mine, you know for the _special_ school, and..."

"Ah! Say no more. Why don't you go in with Lily here?" Matthew offered, ushering the two ahead. "I am Matthew Evans by the way, and this is my daughter Lily."

"Please Pardon my manners, Mr. Evans. I am Hadrian Evan Jameson," the Hand replied, shaking Mr. Evans' hand firmly, placing a note in it as he did so. "You can call me Harry James." Matthew's hand tightened and eyes widened, the only signs of recognition. Hadrian then fell in step with Lily, calmly observing the scowling Slimeball. As soon as they were on the platform, Snape possessively pulled Lily away, who shrank away. She was crying, evidently due to Petunia's behaviour, which was fuelled and exacerbated by Snape.

The Hand kept a cold glare on Snivellus, who returned it, before thanking Lily. "Ms. Evans, if you would like it, I would be honoured to be able to share a compartment with you and your companion," he invited her, pretty sure that Snivellus would scupper that. Slimeball Snape did not disappoint.

"No! We are not sharing with you!" he growled, and dragged her away.

The Hand smiled grimly, and walked away to the compartment he had set up wards around at ten, as soon as the train came in. That was simply the start for Snivellus. He settled down with his notes, practice books and books on all sorts of arcane knowledge. A question was troubling him-finances. How was he to help finance his operation? He would need Remus to destroy Fenrir Greyback. That was to ensure that any money Remus got would not be construed as charity. It was nearly half an hour later that the Hand found the solution. One was the Room of Hidden things. Sorting all things inside and selling them, if necessary after curse-breaking and such, would raise finances. It would be wise to have Lord Potter set-up a small account and have the money deposited there. Investment would make it grow. Then there was the basilisk. A wonderful, continuous source of Armour grade skin and venom would yield great money. It wasn't ideal. But it was useful, and to the point. He would sell it through Gringotts, for they were the no questions asked type.

Yes. The Hand had a plan, and now he had the means to work with it.

* * *

The group of first years was now in the Great Hall, awaiting their turn at the sorting. Jonathon Avery, Hannah Abbott's Aunt Marie, Sirius, Amelia Bones' younger brother Richard were sorted turn by turn. Lily, as expected, was sorted into Gryffindor again. It was obvious that James had his eye on her already, for as she made to the table, he gave her a smile and ruffled his hair. Slimeball, if at all, looked even sourer. Hand was thankful that Hadrian Jameson looked nothing like Harry Potter and James Potter, instead looking a lot like Matthew. His hair was silvery-blonde like Fleur's and black with golden brown accents. While the Hand did not particularly care for the look, it would've been difficult as it was due to Harry Potter's facial similarity with James.

Finally it was the turn of Hadrian Jameson. Without much ado, he strode up to the Hat wore it and plopped onto the stool.

"My, my!" exclaimed the Hat. "You are neither of this time, nor this place and yet..."

"Cut the crap! Sort me in Gryffindor and be done. You know exactly who I am, what I am and why I am in the here and now."

"Hot-headed, are we? GRYFFINDOR!" the hat declared.

Hadrian got off, and nodded to James, Peter and Remus on the way to the Gryffindor table. On the way, he wondered about the disposition that he would need to keep. He had to be friendly enough to be included in the marauders, authoritative enough to keep them from crossing the line they were about to toe, and a little dreamy and vague like Luna to keep a tab on himself if his tongue slipped. He went over to where Sirius sat, opposite Catherine Greaves who sat beside Lily. It was obvious that Sirius and Lily had already had an altercation by the way she was glowering at him. Of course, Sirius and James had renamed Snape as Snivellus.

"May I have this seat Mr. Black, Ms. Evans? Or is it reserved in hope for a friend?" the Hand asked.

Sirius glared at him for a moment then nodded expressionlessly. The Hadrian part of the Hand cringed. Sirius had never looked at him that way- he was always happy to see his godson. The Hand looked over to Lily who was biting her lip ("Damn! That is exactly like Hermione used to do!" thought Hadrian). The Hand sent a surreptitious mental probe at her. The results made him scowl mentally. Snape had started to poison her mind against him.

"He seems okay, but Severus said that such boys are bad because they only want to befriend girls and throw them away! But he is being polite to everyone!" Lily was warring with herself mentally. The Hand sent a very slight suggestion to trust him and her guts instead of Snape, and she suddenly smiled and nodded. Hadrian had to admit, she seemed like a red-haired Hermione. The Hand quashed all reminiscences of his best friend mercilessly as he sat.

They were soon joined by the twins, Eleanor and Arwen Riverwood, then Mary McDonald, followed by Peter and then James. Gryffindor had a full house of ten students. Sirius was being very moody. Peter and Remus were having a discussion in hushed tones, while James was talking to Nearly Headless Nick. Lily, Greaves and the Riverwood twins were discussing something, while McDonald had shrunk into herself. Hadrian smiled at her and engaged in some small talk, basically about their nervousness in the new environs, before she joined James in ribbing Nick. The Hand then tuned them all out, preferring to observe every person in the room, probing people mentally. It was wise to do it then, for there were so many people and there was chaos, meaning that his probe wouldn't be detected, except for the likes of Dumbledore. People like the second year Marlene McKinnon, the third year Prewett twins and their classmates Alice Dearborn and Frank Longbottom, fourth year Ravenclaw Emmaline Vance, her sixth year housemate Dorcas Meadows, the Head Boy from Ravenclaw- Caradoc Dearborn, Hufflepuff Benjy Fenwick impressed him tremendously. Richard, Amelia and Edgar Bones the three siblings with two years each between them were virtually leaders of their years. Hand could see why they were coveted as magically and morally strong people. All of these were people who needed saving. And the Hand was there to do exactly that.

"Jameson...Hey Jameson!" shouted James as he tried to get his attention.

"Huh?"

"Merlin knows I have been trying to call you for the past five minutes! You looked like you had been cursed or something!"

"Sorry Potter, I was looking forward to coming here, but it is so overwhelming!"

"Ah! You must be a muggle-born."

"Yes. I am."

"Hmm, that makes a rather composite first year dormitory. Old gloomy over there," he explained, jerking a thumb at Sirius, "and I are purebloods and cousins, though we don't meet up much, Pettigrew and Lupin are half-bloods- well three quarter, technically. Not that it matters a jot, but statistically, we are probably the perfectly complete group there is," James mused grinning widely. Hadrian nodded as he overrode the Hand, unable to say much to his father.

They were soon led to the Gryffindor tower by Gregory Vane and Amanda Fennel, the fifth year prefects, and shown around. All the first years looked awestruck, barring of course the Hand. As Hadrian, he had lived there for six years, had called this place home. He knew every nook and cranny. But as the Hand, he was observing the Tower anew, looking for escape routes, hiding places and danger areas. Unfortunately for him, his would-be parents and their companions (for none of them were really friends yet) had seen that.

As they retired to their dormitory for the night, the boys fell into a bout of talk, Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans, Quidditch talk, chocolate frogs, and a little introduction of themselves. The Hand mostly kept silent, for he was unless asked to speak an observer. Peter went off first. Hadrian was surprised to know that he had a muggle-born mum. He had always thought that he was probably a pureblood. Hadrian of course knew all that James and Remus had to say, having been observing them since their births.

When at last it came to Hadrian he told them, "I am a muggle-born technically. I was at an orphanage, but I had run away a couple of days before my birthday. Those gits and bullies were driving me mad, and something always happened to them, especially when they would go after the younger kids or the girls. People would get stuck upside down on the window sill, or they would feel compelled to serve the ones they wronged all the while singing some silly song, or they would prance up to the matron in pure happiness and confess before shouting "joy to the world" or something of that sort. Sometimes, they would get their clothes changed to girls' clothes, or would end up with singing fingers. One thug realised that it was me doing the things to them and they went after me. I didn't retaliate much, but just ran off when it became too much. I somehow always forgave them easily when they tried to bully me. Then I ran off to Charring Cross Road and came hungrily to this decrepit hotel or pub, and that's where I learnt what I was. So I live at the Cauldron, help old Tom with things and he lets me live and gives me food."

The boys were laughing at what happened to bullies around him uproariously, which was precisely Hadrian's idea. He had decided to paint himself as a prankster vigilante. He knew that one of the ways to get Lily to warm up to these lovable pranksters was to get her to see them as retaliators. A few general pranks were certainly alright, but not when that went around to bullying others.

Sirius was still morose, so Hadrian prodded him a bit. "What's with the gloomy face, eh, Black?"

"It's not really any of your business is it Jameson?"

"Fair enough, mate" Hadrian responded. "Just trying to be nice and all."

"Hey Black! Let us know what makes you tick!" demanded James.

"I told you it's none of your business Potter. You know my family, they are all dark. Got a problem with that? If you must know, I am wondering how I could write home that I am in Gryffindor, when I don't really feel bad about it. I have known all those gits and prats in Slytherin, and frankly it is not a loss. I don't like my family, going on and on about blood purity. It is irritating. I don't want to be like them. But then I have become a disgrace for them," he added musingly. Hadrian realised that Sirius still held that bit of love for his family.

"Well if they can't be proud of you for what you are, they won't be much of a family will they?" he asked rhetorically. "You say they are dark, but darkness isn't as much in the ideals and beliefs or what a person is, as much as it is in the heart. If you can still find it in yourself to love your family, even though they clearly aren't proud of you, then you, my friend, aren't dark." The whole piece was delivered in the most Luna-esque manner possible.

"Wow, that is profound," muttered Remus.

"Why would you say that?" demanded Sirius.

"Oh, don't mind me, Black! I sometimes make such comments without realising about it. I also know more about people than they think I do, or even they do. You for example, are essentially fun-loving, loyal and courageous. But you are torn about your loyalties. You don't know whom or what to be loyal to." All the boys gaped at him.

"Oh yeah?" challenged Sirius. "Well, tell me something about Potter and you!"

"WHAT?" James cried.

"Oh between us, all five of us will be great friends by our seventh year. I have a very specific, mission, I guess you could say. This mission will be completed by November 1978 But if I don't become successful in what I am to do, the one you least expect to do so will hoodwink the other three and betray everyone, killing all of you. And James will have a son who he will name after me. And you will be the godfather." James and Sirius both blanched at that, not just because of discussions about James' son, but also because of the nonchalant way that the boy talked about disappearing. "The one you need to worry about most is your brother Regulus. A young fool he may be, but he is worth several Gryffindors. Get your paternal grandfather, the Lord Black, and you father to keep him away from your mother, for her expectations will cause him to die an early death. You should not be worried about befriending me, by the way, Black. I am pretty sure that I can barge into your home uninvited and scare your folks bad if they try troubling you."

Sirius scoffed at that. "A Black scared of a mud-"

Hadrian froze and all the others gasped. Then they saw the truly frightening expression on Hadrian's face. He glanced at Sirius and the boy was suddenly floating in the air, his limbs seemingly stretching in all directions. "Never use that word, Black, unless you were being sarcastic. I did not want to expose this, but you forced my hand. When I came to Diagon Alley, I performed a blood inheritance test because I was curious about my origins. I have magical blood through two squibs from two very powerful families in me. And it is true for all other muggle-born or as I prefer it, newbloods. This is your first and last warning." Sirius dropped to his bed in a heap, given a lot to think about.

It scared his godson from the future. The Sirius that Harry knew was almost nothing like this boy. Sirius had tried to be a Black ever so briefly, before he questioned the logic of the beliefs. Everyone wanted acceptance, particularly from their own families. Sirius had finally cracked and had flipped the Blacks the bird, resulting in the carefully constructed face of rebellion that slowly overtook reality. Harry wanted his 'Pafoo' as his younger self had called the pad footed one. Sirius wouldn't be estranged from his family for that, while at the same time, he would be the progressive Sirius Black, Padfoot of the Marauders, whose beliefs were as real as his antics weren't, as well.

* * *

Over the next two days, all the boys were still getting their bearings. Hadrian quickly moved to be on decently friendly terms with all of them. He knew that Sirius would be the one that would be tough to crack. And boy! Was he proving hard to crack! The only one who could get an answer from him at all was James, and that was because of the familial relationship.

Their classes were simply Transfiguration (McGonagall), DADA (Rasmussen), Herbology (Sprout), Charms (Flitwick), Potions (Slughorn), History (Binns) and Astronomy (Williams). The first years had five lectures each day, and Thursday started with Double Transfiguration with the Puffs. Hadrian was paired with Lily, much to James' irritation. Abbott and Richard Bones were at the adjacent table. The Hand casually sent a probe through each of their minds. The two puffs were a cheery pair and were the first to extend a hand of friendship, which the Hand accepted just as boisterously. Lily was still uncertain about him, and was running Snape's reading of the Hand through her mind. The first lecture was chiefly about the applications of Transfiguration, the course goals, requirements, and so on, along with practical demonstrations that had the students awed. It was in the second hour that the students were to do anything at all.

It was the simple toothpick to needle transfiguration. It was a matter of incanting 'Transverto!' and imagining the toothpick changing into a needle- or rather imagining a perfect needle. The Hand had had extensive training in letting his magic flow through him. The first try was successful. He got Gryffindor points for that. He change it again, and just for practice sake, performed the transfiguration silently, then with words but no wand, and then silently and wandlessly (under notice-me-not charms of course). He then settled for watching the Mother struggle. For the next fifteen minutes, the only changes in his three workspace companions' toothpicks were in their positions. They poked and prodded and jabbed to no avail before Lily nearly shrieked in anger. It got worse when she saw the perfect needle that Jameson had produced. Jameson had by now gotten so bored with it, that he and Potter had gotten into a needle fight, where they were using their wands to swish their needles about.

"How are you doing that?" she asked in not a little irritation. Jameson looked at her curiously, then transfigured the needle back to a toothpick, and performed the spell again for her benefit.

"But that is the same thing I was doing!" she protested.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Sorry?"

"What were you thinking about when you performed the spell?" he asked, a tad bit patronisingly.

"Changing the toothpick to a needle of course!" she retorted in indignation. "And getting points for Gryffindor..." she added in an undertone.

"Ms. Evans I believe that is your mistake. You do not believe that you will have a needle when you see the toothpick and perform the spell. You see, the needle is a toothpick is a needle. They are one and the same. You just need to believe it. When you want it to change, it means you already believe that it needs to change. Forget the toothpick. Just concentrate on a needle while you say the spell."

Lily grudgingly followed those instructions. At first, the toothpick became shinier. Then she concentrated again on it and it changed into a needle. She beamed. "Thank you! Thank you!" she chanted as she glomped him. This was the cue for Hadrian to temporarily cede control to Harry. Now he could remember his mum hugging him. But again, she was like Hermione in the way she behaved when helped.

"That is quite alright, Ms. Evans. I am sure you would have helped me too," Hadrian replied softly.

Hadrian then proceeded to help Marie Abbott and Richard Bones, earning fifteen more points from an approving Professor McGonagall. He placed suggestions in James', Sirius' and Remus' minds to do the same at the same time, earning them points too. Gryffindor were fifty five points up.

Once the class was over, Hadrian respectfully retreated towards the Marauders, only to be cornered by James. "So Jameson, you fancy Evans or something?"

Hadrian froze and almost heaved at the idea. "No, Potter. I am simply trying to befriend her. As for fancying her, perhaps you will be satisfied by this. I Hadrian Evan Jameson, solemnly swear on my life, magic and soul that I don't and will never fancy Lily Evans, or anyone else originating in this time and space for that matter. So I claim so will it be."

This made them all aghast. "Are you mad? Why did you swear such a Vow?"

"I told you yesterday, Potter. I will disappear before November 1978. I have made a magical Vow to someone to be a celibate till such time in heart, mind and body."

James looked at the boy sheepishly. "So you had," he agreed.

Harry/Hadrian frowned at James, then asked, "Aren't you a bit young for the fancying business?"

"It's Evans, mate," James replied with a deep sigh. "I was a boy in mind as well, before I saw her."

Remus, Sirius, Peter and Harry gaped at James. Then they exchanged glances in agreement that they would never speak of what James said again. Ever.

Over the day, he had partnered James in Charms (both managed well), Herbology with Remus, and sat in History with Peter. Potions, in which Slughorn had separated the class house-wise, had him partnering his mum again. It was however DADA where he, Remus and Sirius really became friends.

The Professor Rasmussen was singularly biased. In fact, it was the same bias that Hadrian never wanted Sirius and Remus to face. The middle-aged ex-Auror (and were Hadrian anything to do with it, this Auror would have been fired at the first instance) started picking on Sirius almost from the word go. If it was not about insinuating Sirius being a Dark Wizard, it was insulting the family. If it wasn't that, it was picking him out for demonstrations. Had it not been so derogatory, it would have been funny. But the worst part was the way he almost sucked up to the Slytherins. And then there was his treatment of Remus. He kept glancing at Remus whenever he mentioned about covering werewolves. Poor Remus was trying to hide himself or wished that the ground would swallow him. The Hand wanted to retaliate, oh yes he did. But he knew that it wasn't the right time. He decided to use the cerebral approach.

"Professor, you keep talking about Dark Wizards and Dark Spells. How does one decide whether something is light or dark?"

Rasmussen glowered at him condescendingly. "It is not for you to decide, Mr. Jameson. You have to accept things as they are. My job is to help you defend yourself."

"But just accepting doesn't help me at all. You could name a 'dark' spell, and I could give you a light use for it. And you could tell me about a 'light' spell and I could tell you a 'dark' use for it. How do you exactly discriminate magic? Isn't that worse than discriminating against say muggle-born witches and wizards or squibs?"

"Five points from Gryffindor will be deducted for your cheek, Jameson. But you did challenge me, didn't you? Well, considering you are a first year, and just a muggle-born at that, I will give you the simplest of 'light' spells. Demonstrate the use of 'Lumos' for 'dark' purposes, if you please."

Hand Jameson just shrugged, and then silently cast 'Lumos!' "As you can see, this is the spell for light in dark places. Now," he continued, amplifying the luminescence to a blinding effect, but directing it at the Professor alone, "you can see that I have him nearly blinded, and unable to think. I have him on the backfoot." He proceeded to stun, bind and stick Rasmussen upside down to the ceiling. Everyone hollered with laughter, irrespective of house.

The Hand then revived the Professor, who looked at him with a most murderous expression that amused him, before bringing the Professor down and unbinding him. "Have I proved my point Professor?" the Hand asked with a smirk.

"That will be fifty points from Gryffindor for your actions, Jameson!" The Gryffindors groaned as one. The Hand was unapologetic, unsurprised, uninterested, and if possible, his smirk had only widened. He had won fifty points on his own within the first day itself, so all he had done was lose those. The Professor was not done yet, however. "And I am sure that you will lose more points when I ask you the next question. Give me any good use of the Cruciatus curse." The purebloods and halfbloods gasped as one.

"I am sorry, sir, but I don't know this curse, or what it does, so I am not sure how I can answer this question."

"Just goes to show that you don't know everything, do you, Jameson? Well, the Cruciatus curse is the pain or torture curse. It causes severe spasms of the body, and tremendous nerve trauma. Now that you do know what it does, I will deduct twenty points from Gryffindor, if you don't or can't give me a good use of this." One mental probe at Rasmussen's pathetic mental shields told Jameson that the man was doing an internal victory dance at showing up the 'pathetic mudblood'.

"Have you ever heard of a defibrillator, Sir?"

"De-fib-what?" barked the man in response.

"A defibrillator," answered Hadrian. "A defibrillator is an electrical device that is used to send intense electrical shock pulses into the body to restart a person's heart. It has been around since the 1930s. Mind you, it doesn't bring people back from the dead, but if the device is used within a stipulated amount of time, the shocks help restart the heart. The Cruciatus curse could be used similarly. As I am sure that nobody has tried or thought of it, given the fact that a learned person like you could not find such a use, you could get people at St. Mungo's to try."

Fortunately or unfortunately, the class ended just about then, and The Hand sent one last smirk at the Professor. He was sure that this person was going to be a forerunner to the Death Eaters- the Knights of Walpurgis. He didn't care anyway. If he did participate in the movement, he would kill him, fair and simple. The modus operandi was quite straightforward. Capture, safeguard, torture, extract information, decapitate, immolate body and transfigure ashes to fertilizer. There would never be any evidence related to the person's death or disappearance.

Slimeball Severus 'Snivellus' Snape observed the class with disdain. They were all frothing at the mouth over how a filthy mudblood had shown up the Professor. He accosted Lily. "Do you see?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Do you see why I told you to stay away? He is an arrogant toerag! He showed up the Professor, for Merlin's sake! Trust me now at least! He is a show-off!"

"I don't understand what you are saying, Sev. He actually had a fairly intellectual debate with the Professor. Rasmussen did not think of the matter from the other side. If he did, and contributed to the class, what is wrong in that?"

"The thing that is wrong is that he is deliberately showing off! He is exactly like the boys I warned you about! He is one of those who will try and impress girls out of their...knickers," he said in a very small voice, "Just for the fun of it. I just want to protect you, Lils!"

Lily was troubled by that. She believed that it was all that Sev wanted- to protect her because she was his best friend. It never crossed her mind that the only one actually thinking in such a derogatory manner about the girls was Severus himself. Unfortunately, the girls back in her dorm seemed to give a little credence to Severus' thoughts. They were discussing the enigmatic first year in hushed and dreamy tones. That made Lily grimace and decide to stay away from him as far as possible.

In the boys' dormitory, Jameson was accosted himself. "What was that?" demanded James.

"What was what?"

"You know what I mean! Why go and pick on Rasmussen?"

"Did you miss it Potter? I am not a fool. He wasn't exactly subtle the way he was picking on Black. Dark family indeed! And then he has the audacity to be all sunshine and smiles to the Slytherins! And don't think that just because I didn't know about the magical world till July end means that I know nothing at all. I know exactly which families are 'dark' and which are 'light'. What I hate is the fact that he is creating sheep! "We have defined 'dark' and 'light'. Accept it! The only truth is what we say! Accept it!" Sorry. That is not my cup of tea. He forgets that each person is an individual, first and foremost. He has to respect Black for his bravery, for without being brave neither of us could have gotten into Gryffindor. Then the way he talks about werewolves. They are humans! They just have a disease that makes them unable to mingle normally with humans one- or every three and a half years- two days a month. And he calls them dark creatures! It just goes to show that he is a self-serving bigot, not a good teacher. Say, if I attacked you, with intention to cause you harm, wouldn't you classify me as an enemy at least, if not 'dark'? If anyone shot a spell at me, unless it was a healer or someone under oath to never harm me, I would take that as the action of an enemy and retaliate. There's this mad Auror who's got the right idea- CONSTANT VIGILANCE! I just proved that it is not the spell but the intent that makes a person or the use of magic dark. Magic is magic, people are people. All that matters is intent." He stopped as he realised that he had let Harry through, and gotten onto the soapbox.

The four original Marauders gaped at their dorm-mate. "Why do you defend the werewolves or Black here?" Remus finally asked shakily.

"Everyone is entitled to a secret of their own, Lupin. When I was in Diagon Alley back in August, someone found out that I have a very peculiar ability. All of a sudden I had wizards and witches and hags from Knockturn Alley after me like I was the second coming or something, and those in Diagon Alley were shunning me. You don't need me to tell you that this ability is considered Dark. So I taught myself as much of DADA as I could. And trust me, everyone thinks I am out to hurt people, or become the next Dark Lord or something. I am not. I am really not," he clarified, with a pleading tone in his voice. The Hand had to be a decent actor.

"What is it that you can do?" asked Remus. He was now bolstered by the idea that he wasn't the only one who'd be classified as dark.

"Why should I tell you? You will be like those people in the alleys. Once you know, you will all shun me too!" The Hand protested forcibly.

"I promise you I won't. I will give you an oath if you want," replied Moony.

"What about you?" the Hand asked turning to the others.

"What he said," they agreed in unison, pointing to Remus.

The Hand probed them all mentally, and placed very strong suggestions for them all to be friends. Merlin, but nobody might have been as liberal as he was becoming with mind manipulation. He placed the suggestion for them all to be the Marauders, to accept his being a Parselmouth, and to warm up to each other rather fast. It would not do to waste time. "Alright," he conceded, when he was satisfied that the idea would take root, but did not pull back the probes. "I am a Parselmouth." He got gasps in response. "See? You already think I am dark because I can talk to snakes!" he growled, acting very convincingly.

That seemed to jerk them out of their stupor. "What? No!" declared James. "I am just thinking of all the pranks we can pull on the Slytherins with that! This is bloody marvellous! And seeing that the gift is actually Slytherin Family Magic, it means we have got the Heir of Slytherin in Gryffindor! If that is not a prank, tell me what is?" He then literally bounced around the room in laughter. The Hadrian part of the Hand wondered whether James would have the same reaction if he knew that _his_ son was a Parselmouth. Prank Indeed.

When the young Potter Heir finally calmed down, Jameson warned, "This doesn't get out of us five. Ever."

"I promise!" James said giddily. The other three agreed too.

For both Remus and Sirius it was a gigantic relief. Remus knew for sure that Jameson would understand he wasn't a dark creature if he ever found out that he was a Dark Creature. Not that Remus would let Jameson know voluntarily. But he would at least have empathy, and that was more than he could ask for. For Sirius, it was a relief from the idea of hailing from a Dark family yet being in Gryffindor. Here was 'an' heir of Slytherin himself. And this Heir had muggle roots and was in Gryffindor! If that wouldn't make Sirius relax, nothing would.

"Alright, mates, we have let things get too heavy, and we haven't really become friends. On my part, I would like to be your friend, if you'll let me. You can all call me Hadrian," the Hand said, breaking their reverie.

"And you can call me Remus," Moony told them shyly.

"I am Peter."

"Well, I was really hoping you could all cut out the formalities fast. I am James."

"I am Sirius, but just call me Black till my mum's Howler comes in, as it is bound to."

"We could organise a school-wide prank to get Black's spirits up after that, you know," James mused, making them all laugh.

* * *

The 4th of September was a difficult day for Remus. This was the first transformation since the start of Hogwarts. He was feeling exceptionally tired. Somehow, he had had an idea of leaving sometime after lunch to check-out the library, but in reality going to Madam Pomfrey so that she would be ready for the transformation. It made him feel even more relieved. He wouldn't have to lie to his friends, yet. It was yet another painful transformation, but he somehow could tide over it.

Hagrid took him to the Whomping Willow, sometime after four thirty, and he lay there, mulling over Hadrian's words repeatedly. In his heart, Remus Lupin did not want to hurt anyone, as man or wolf. Didn't that mean that he wasn't dark? He had no dark intent, certainly. Somehow, Remus felt that he would have to get to know this new bloke better to know himself well.

Said bloke had spent his morning behaving like a kid on a sugar high to stave off any attention from Remus, and intended to do the very same around night time too. In the intervening period, he went around to the Room of Requirements, or more specifically, the Room of Hidden Things.

The job of sorting, curse-breaking, evaluating the stuff in the room would take Hadrian a week of Sundays at least, even magically. Everything from stolen broomsticks to soiled and used underwear was littered in the very room where the Horcrux was hidden. Then there was the Vanishing cabinet. The other of the pair had to be bought from Knockturn Alley. More importantly, everything had to be done under the radar. Nobody was ever to know.

Sunday saw him writing a letter to Lord Potter and Mr. Evans. The two liaisons would have to be introduced to this form of the soldier.

* * *

It was on Monday that problems with Lily resurfaced like the champagne cork that shot out once the bottle was opened. Hadrian had made it a point to make very good acquaintances within the first two days with as many people as he could. And at least one meal a day, he would make it a point to personally greet these acquaintances. When he turned up at the Gryffindor table, he joined the dorm-mates and settled for breakfast, a rather heavy one, as he had gone to the Room of Requirement where he underwent a military standard physical regimen, dodging and moving, boxing and dirty tactics. As he sat down however, he noticed that he was subject to very filthy looks from Lily. He did not comment on the results of his probing. It was obvious that Snape had been back at work.

After that the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins had flying lessons. The Harry part of Hadrian grimaced. These were the same brooms he had used in his first flying lesson. Madam Longfoot was the teacher, with Rolanda Hooch as her deputy. The Gryffindors were all lined up on one side, and the Slytherin were opposite them. Unfortunately for Lily, the Gryffindor boys were all lined up next to her, with Jameson next to her. Both could see Snivellus giving him the evil eye. Hadrian waved at him jauntily. The flying lesson was supposed to be normal, particularly because he did not have cretins like Malfoy to disrupt things. But it was a case of the more things change the more they remain the same. This time, it was a far serious attack. Avery and the younger Mulciber brother, with Slimeball in their shadow, were targeting the muggle-born with 'innocuous' dive-bombing.

As a soldier, the Hand decided to divert the attention of villains away from the civilians. He flew around in a zigzag attacking formation, taking the offensive himself. The adversary left its quarry and focussed on this new player into the game. The Hand led them higher and higher, beyond what the adversary was confident of attaining, and made them chase him. When he was pretty sure that they would be right on his back, Hadrian spiralled and dove. Avery and Mulciber dove after him. Just before it would be too late, Hadrian flattened out. Unfortunately Avery and Mulciber did so too. Neither paid attention to the ground where McGonagall had hurried onto the grounds to check on her student just after the dive. Hadrian, unmindful of her, decided to repeat the tactics. Avery followed, but Mulciber proved to be cleverer. He made to follow, but suddenly dive-bombed Lily, who much to everyone's horror (except Mulciber's), fell off. Hadrian sprung into action. This was no remembrall- this was the 'Mother'. With a dive, he grabbed her around the midriff and plopped her onto the broom, before swerving and spiralling in a slow descent to the ground. He did not stop to look at anyone at all. Instead he just hexed Mulciber, Avery and Snape off their brooms and proceeded to toy with them. The whole class group watched in awe as Hadrian did what the fake Mad-Eye had done to Draco Malfoy- minus the transfiguration into a ferret part.

"Bloody"- bounce- "fucking"- thump- "cowards!" yelled Hadrian, "Going"-bump- "after"- clunk- "people"- thump- "who have never"- bounce- "thought about"- crash- "riding a broom before just because you can! Who the bloody hell, do you think you are?"

"Mr. Jameson! You will-"

The Hand paid her no attention, instead striding up to the three boys, and speaking to the snakes on their badges in Parseltongue, and tying them all up very securely. He then cast an area wide charm that would make everyone (except the Marauders) forget his retaliation, but they would still remember that he saved Lily, and that the three Slytherins were the perpetrators and that they had been somehow punished. Not content with his punishment, however, the Hand decided that he wanted to end their line should they cross the line, ever. A time-strengthening, undetectable curse tied to the use of the word "mudblood" which would reduce their reproductive capacity with each time the word mudblood was used to denigrate anyone was the most powerful punishment- and nobody would ever be any the wiser. They always cared too much about Heirs, didn't they? Well, a faulty apparatus would soon be the least of their troubles.

"That was bloody brilliant flying!" James gushed, making 'Harry' preen at his father's praise.

"Mr. Jameson!" interrupted McGonagall.

" _Never_ \- in all my time at Hogwarts-" Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how _dare_ you- might have broken your neck-"

Hadrian wasn't having any of it. Letting his power flare in a way that had everyone backing off, he responded, "And if I hadn't, Ms. Evans' dead body would have been awaiting the train to be sent off to her grieving parents! Perhaps instead of biting _my_ head off, you might want to do something to those bastards, for a change! I know that you have been standing there for precisely fourteen minutes and thirty seven seconds, before I caught Ms. Evans. You came down by the side door of your office to reach here quickly, a door which has direct access to the ground floor by its own set of stairs! And I know that the two flying instructors- the ones in charge in situ, had seen it all too. So you all three of you knew what was going on! And here you dare, you actually dare to admonish me? If it has escaped your notice, let me tell you this- these cretins that lie there were targeting Ms. McDonald, Miss Evans and me. The first rule of combat under duress is to protect civilians, and that is what I was doing. SO before you go off at me, I will see those three punished or expelled for trying to murder three students under your care or the Head of the DMLE will be hearing from me. You choose! And so help me if anyone of them gets off for being boys who made mistakes. These people will grow to be murderers! And it will be just that one little time when they were let off, and every such one little time will see things accumulate to the point when they will be murderers! I warn you, woman!"

The entire year group and three professors stood with their mouths agape at the way a first-year tore into Minerva McGonagall, the so-called lioness of Gryffindor. The woman in question was trying to refute what he said, but couldn't string together anything that would be true. The words and phrases- 'civilians', 'rules of combat', 'murderers'- rang in her mind heavily. Those weren't the words of an eleven year old boy. Those were the words of somebody who had fought battles, particularly seeing the reflexes, both physical and mental. Finally McGonagall decided to take small control of the situation. "Mr. Avery, Mr. Mulciber, Mr. Snape, I will be reporting this behaviour to Professor Slughorn! I will also deduct twenty five points from Slytherin! Now get going!"

The Hand nodded at that. The Harry part rebelled. She had taken fifty points apiece when they were helping Hagrid. As a Head of House, McGonagall was terrible. She just cared about herself in that sense. Her duty, her beliefs, her discipline, her students should adhere to her idea of discipline and her House had to be given the worst punishment by her just so that she wasn't called into question in anyway. Gryffindor Head of House indeed.

"Thank you, Professor. I apologise for overstepping my bounds and shouting at you."

"I will let it pass, this time," McGonagall said. She turned to follow the Slytherins. It was then that she turned around again to face him. "Actually, Jameson, I wanted to commend you for your flying an offer you a reserve place on the team."

The Hand smiled. "Thank you for your consideration, ma'am, but the rules state that first-years aren't allowed brooms. It follows that it is not expected that first years should join House teams. While I will certainly try out for the team next year if I can make it till then, now is not the time. While I respect your judgement, I want to earn my place fair and square, on my own merit, if I have it."

People were sure they heard 'ten points to Gryffindor' as she left.

Lily decided to retaliate on Snape's behalf once the Professor was gone. "Do you think you are so special, you arrogant toerag? What did you implicate Severus for? I should have realised he was right again. What is your problem with Snape?"

The Hand looked at the Mother neutrally, with a deepening aura of magic engulfing her. He stepped into her personal space and whispered. "I would have asked whether you were alright, but I don't think you have your own brain to think with. You just need the greasy git's brain to do that for you. Keep defending Snivellus, Ms. Evans. Keep forgetting that he was revelling in Avery's and Mulciber's shadows. I think you are a foolish little girl who is blinded by faith. Never trust anyone- not even those you think of as friends or allies."

Lily nearly vibrated with fury. The battle-lines had been drawn.


	3. The One's Gift

**The One's Gift**

(Shocks, Surprises and Troubles)

As The Hand had expected, the three Slytherins only got off with a slap on the wrists. Hand could still not complain as they had been given token punishments. Hand hated Slughorn too. He had helped create the Monster that was Voldemort. Dumbledore was culpable to an extent as well, but he had valid reasons for his actions. He wasn't always right, or justified, for that matter, as was evidenced by his reluctance to use retaliatory force. But that didn't lay the blame of the massive failure that was the first blood war squarely at his feet, as the general. The Wizarding World had never learnt to be responsible for its own security and life, nor was it possible to truly understand who believed what.

Among the chief problems with the situation was the fact that Voldemort had already started his movement and was much further along the road to perceived immortality. Not that Dumbledore knew it then. As much as it would be easy to say he should have known, it wasn't as if Dumbledore was a necromancer, and in spite of the name, there were innumerable other ways in the arts of Necromancy. It was frowned upon, but it wasn't illegal. Moreover, people don't come across old students, liked or disliked, and just think out of the blue that the person is a necromancer. It couldn't even be classed as a human error.

It was also not as easy to just pull the rug out from under Voldemort's hypocrisy. While Dumbledore could have easily defused the situation by revealing Voldemort's roots, there was another part to the movement had already gained momentum by then, and revealing that Voldemort was halfblood would have created mob frenzy among the Death Eaters. They could have and would have turned on him, and taken up the idea of exterminating non-purebloods altogether. It was passive appeasement, yes, but it was necessary. The enemy was totally unpredictable, and with no knowledge of their aims till about late in November 1971, there was little that Dumbledore could have done. Thereafter, the guerrilla tactics and control that Voldemort employed made retaliation even more difficult.

Even after 1981, Dumbledore did not have the clout that money could buy, and it was that which had put Sirius in jail without trial, especially at a time when all the politically powerful allies were in a period of transition, having lost their Lords, or had died out completely. While the 'Harry' part of the Hand screamed out against the injustice meted out to Sirius, he could see that Dumbledore had used that time to get the baby away from the attention of the Death Eaters in the bargain. That was not to say that Dumbledore was powerless and therefore blameless. He had fallen into the trap that all intrinsically good people fell into. He never questioned Snivellus' turning on his master, and to all intents and purposes, that was the point where his failure at peacetime consolidation started.

Slughorn on the other hand had given the worst possible knowledge freely to Tom Riddle, simply out of the greed for connections and favours. He was the one who had contributed to Voldemort's rise. His greed had fuelled Voldemort's ambitions. And yet, there was little to pin onto the man, for all he ever did could be easily denied. And that was evidenced by the way he dealt the Slytherins token punishment.

The flying class incident- apart from showing Slughorn's self-serving stand- also demarcated three factions within the youngest of the Lions' Pride- Hadrian Jameson against Lily Evans, with all the others watching in fascination. They played a game of one-upmanship through all their classes, competing over the best grades. It wasn't strictly necessary for Hadrian, but it was the little bit of fun he could have. The school year was his holiday, in practice.

Lily had a competitive as well as petty streak several miles wide. She went out of her way to bait him, commenting on his so-called arrogance, always defending Snape insidiously when the Slimeball did his best to destroy Jameson's potions, or passing comments with Snape whenever Jameson had his regular showdowns with Rasmussen. Jameson had let out the Harry part of him a lot, and it hurt him more than he could say that his mum was taking the Slimeball's side. After nearly six weeks of a running and loud feud, Jameson left her as a lost cause, and started to ignore her, reining in 'Harry'. That only served to infuriate Lily further, for some reason. But she simply couldn't get a word nor sound from him anymore.

But that did not stop him from taking care of Snape. He had to get Snape away from Lily. And he had to do it fast, but not too fast. He soon took up to putting up very strong disillusionment, silencing, deodorising and sensory-blocking charms around himself, before stalking after the bastard. He started placing subtle, very subtle suggestions into Snape's mind to start studying the Dark Arts, of only starting to believe what the boys in the Slytherin dorms said. It was an experiment, Hadrian convinced himself. Unsurprisingly, Slimeball took to the suggestions like a duck to water.

On the other front, it was a mixed bag for The Hand. The Marauders were coming along rather nicely. Sirius had come out of his self-imposed ostracism, and opened up to his dorm-mates. 'Harry' found out that his father's penchant for pranks had been brought out, to cheer Sirius. Remus and Peter were really afraid of being caught breaking the rules, but the Hand came through for them. He had taken up the role of planning the security of the pranks, while the other actually planned and executed them. He participated wholeheartedly in the small pranks that played, but made sure that it would not be shameful or painful for those pranked. That provided a lot of cheer across the castle, especially as some stories about an organisation that was targeting those of non-magical descent were filtering through the castle, starting around the fag end of the previous term, particularly, 30th April.

The Hand itched to bring vengeance upon them, but 'Harry' stopped him. While it was true that while dealing with his peers, 'Harry' was a hindrance, but that was not to discount the reason for his presence. 'Harry' was the part of the Hand that was manifested as the memories of the future, as the conscience, as the one who would question his actions and reactions, and thoughts and beliefs. They were to work as a team, and it was still proving to be a difficult balancing act. Both needed help. And help would come, and how!

Other matters were proving to be straightforward. After trying to sort things by hand, Hadrian suddenly realised that he could sort out the things by object magically. That had reduced the chore to a work of little over two weekends. He had cleaned out the whole Room of Hidden Things. It raised him roughly ten thousand galleons, a princely sum, which he then had Lord Potter put into his vault. The tainted Diadem was put away in a sealed cupboard lined with acromantula silk, in the room itself, with a drop of his blood being the key. He had taken care to remove all the curses set on it, and the cupboard itself was a magic inhibiting shield.

* * *

Halloween came, and the Hand was extremely cautious, jumpy and paranoid. This had been the day when nothing ever went well for Harry. He was worried about just about everything. Finally, James and Sirius, and to a lesser extent, Remus and Peter decided that it was time for a Halloween mega-prank to take his mind off whatever was bothering him.

The boys charmed every classroom and door (even those within the other houses) in the castle to emit the terrible stuttering creak that makes one's hair stand on its end. Giving condolences to Nearly Headless Nick for 479th death anniversary proved to be a masterstroke, for he instantly agreed to get Peeves to help them. The poltergeist chose one among the several identical armour suits around the castle that he decided made him look handsome, and proceeded to scare the living daylights out of everyone by sneaking up around people out of alcoves or shadowy areas. They also turned up at the time that the elves were going to put up the pumpkins, and hiding behind the doors, charmed all the pumpkins to emit the rather run-of-the-mill monstrous laughter and also to fly around all the tables along with the sconces.

To say that it was a successful prank was an understatement. Moreover, this did not transcend into bullying either. It lightened The Hand's mood considerably. That was, at least until Peeves decided to snitch on them and they earned detentions from McGonagall. If at all, it only increased the hilarity for them. While Hadrian had taken all possible ways to protect their identities, Peeves was an intangible, and he had betrayed the Order of the Pranksters (the detention would be just lines.) It only made the group slightly popular because of their antics. They easily ignored the dirty looks being sent their way by Lily, who had taken an extremely antagonistic approach to them all. She didn't like either of Remus and Hadrian for being very good in their studies and therefore, dare she say it, competitors. She did not like James and Sirius for their fun-loving and mischievous natures. She hated them even more because she somehow rationalised their mischievousness as showy behaviour, instead of just boys being boys, and really playing a practical joke. And she hated Peter just because.

The five sat at the table with huge grins on their faces, accepting congratulations from people like the Prewett twins for an excellent prank. With the their heads full of praise and laughter, and stomachs full of delicious food, the five felt wonderfully heavy, sleepy and sloth. That was until Dumbledore called out for silence.

"Silence, please!" he said, and most of the hall turned as one to listen to what he had to say. "Something very unprecedented has happened, at least as far as Hogwarts is concerned. You all know that Hogwarts does not accept any responses from first year students after the first of August. However, owing to certain legal complications, an exception has been made, this year. Young Ms. Jane Bennett here is a new student, who will be accepted. We will have a sorting for her shortly.

As the venerable headmaster had said, it really was unprecedented. A hubbub broke out among the students. Hadrian cast a probe around to the students from each table. As expected, the Slytherins were discussing her blood status, and had come to the conclusion that she was not a pureblood. None of them knew her, and it was difficult to find a pureblood that was unknown among the small population of English Pureblood magic users.

The Ravenclaws were evidently reserving their judgement over the matter. It was not by the rules at any rate, but the key phrase in Dumbledore's spiel had been 'legal complications'. That meant that the girl had evidently been troubled in some manner and not that she was in legal trouble. Beyond that, they frankly didn't care.

The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were rather identical to an extent in their perception of the new student. For one, they were concerned about her well-being. Then there were questions about her legal complications. That was where the two houses had a different thought process. For, the Gryffindors were thinking about who had saved her from her troubles, or whether she had fought her way out of them. The Hufflepuffs were thinking about the perpetrators. Had they been caught? Had they been brought to justice?

Hadrian on his part kept feeling that he should know this person. Jane Bennett- the name was somehow familiar, yet unknown. He felt as if he had read the name somewhere- though he couldn't for the life of him remember whether it was in the magical or mundane world. Moreover, he was sure that he had encountered the names Jane and Bennett independently before. Something about the new girl rubbed him... well not the wrong way, but it made him cautious, suspicious. She was dressed in the standard black robes, but had pulled on a travelling cloak with a hood above that. She made no effort to remove the cloak and reveal her face. A few moments later, McGonagall came in with the stool and sorting Hat.

When she sat on the stool and the hat was set on her head, the Hat physically recoiled as if struck in the gut by a blow. "Yet another one!" it screeched. Then it seemingly held a conversation with the witch and finally said, "Alright! Have it your way! I sort you into- GRYFFINDOR!"

There were resounding claps and cheers from the Gryffindor table as they decided that their theory had probably won. It would make her a popular addition to the pride. Hadrian had his wand in his hand. This situation had not been encountered in the previous timeline. Who was she? It would be unreal if she turned out to be Voldemort's minion, with her name. He kept observing her as she bypassed the entire table and sat at the very end, never removing her hood. Hadrian heard a distinct, if low squeal of glee. Lily had observed his reaction to the girl, and had evidently become very happy to see someone who could put him on the edge join Gryffindor. When they all returned to their common rooms, McGonagall accompanied them with the new girl.

"Now, you all know that Ms Bennett is new, and will need to acclimatise to the castle. I will be recommending and appointing two first year liaisons after discussing the matter with her. These liaisons will be working with her till Christmas. It will be one boy and one girl. I want the rest of the House to make her feel at home here. She has been through severe trauma, and I order you to not ask her any questions or press her to answer anything that she may not want to answer. I trust that I will not have to reiterate this." She then left the room.

Slowly talk broke out across the common room, and the new girl carefully made her way towards Hadrian who stood to a side and watched her with suspicion, casting what he recognised as a notice-me-not charm on her person. The girl lowered her hood, and neither the Hand, nor 'Harry', nor could stifle the involuntary gasp that he let out...

It was Hermione.

"Hello Harry," she said with a smile. However, the Harry part of the Hand was scared. The smile did not reach her eyes.

"How?" gasped Hadrian

"You tell me how!"

"What did I do?"

"What did you do? You decided to sacrifice yourself to Voldemort! You then did whatever you did to rewrite time! And you asked The One for me to **_always_** be your friend!"

"Oh." Hand/Harry/Hadrian looked downcast. "It is my fault then."

"STOP THAT! Foolish boy! What were you thinking doing whatever you did? What made you think of sacrificing yourself to Voldemort? Snivellus' memories, Morgana's hairy arse! YOU STUPID PRAT! I was so worried! And The One told me, that you chose me over every other person, particularly the Weasleys! I was never so happy ever before! And you say it was your fault?" she shrieked.

"Do you know how incredibly, devastatingly, drop-dead sexy you look when you are angry?" blurted Hadrian- before clapping both hands on his mouth and looking away in thorough mortification.

Jane (Hermione) blushed. She had been shown Harry's life with the Dursleys, and knew that he had never known love beyond what little she had given him. She was also made to endure repentance for getting scared of his destiny, when she had decided to ignore her own feelings for him because she was afraid of being heartbroken when he died. Love and irrationality were always known to be strange yet constant bedfellows. She had hoped – Oh! Had she hoped – that Harry would say something like that to her. But given what she had learnt, she had realised that he was scared of driving away the one person he felt things about that he could neither understand nor express. He'd never had anyone to explain these things to him.

She then did something that would reduce Harry's, or Hadrian's or the Hand's (or whatever it was that he called himself) fear. She cast a very strong privacy ward, and then without a moment more, grabbed him and kissed him senseless, forgetting all constraints of her physical self. For all the training that the Hand had had as a chiselled fighter, he was not ready for that. He fainted.

* * *

Jane (Hermione) quickly made friends with the Marauders, particularly Peter. Snivellus had been the one who had turned Peter towards the Dark, as revenge on his friends. Peter, stupid, quiet, underappreciated, little Peter had turned quite easily. Jane and Hadrian had decided what to do. They would help Peter be an equal to the other three Marauders. If he still became a traitor, he would be given the same treatment he would give every other D.E. Her work with the Marauders was limited to the time when Moony would come to them.

Jane's main job, however, was to handle the – as Hadrian liked to call it (jokingly, of course) – the 'home front', something that she hated. Her work was to ensure that Lily started going away from Snivellus and warm her up to the Gryffindor first years in particular; that the Marauders would be pranksters but not bullies; that all the people they were trying to save would be accounted for.

Remus, Peter, James and Sirius (in that order) warmed up to her quite easily. Remus had found the same acceptance for his condition from her that Hadrian had. He just wished it would be the same if they knew that he was a werewolf. For Peter, she unlocked his inner sense of profit. She could see that it was that very sense that had led him towards Voldemort. She decided to channel that sense into better ways. She explained how businesses were set up in the mundane world, and told him about all the different businesses that were set up. For James, she was just a cute girl, who initially would not give him the time of the day. When she gave him the same oath as Hadrian did, he had decided to try and be her friend first. Sirius found her intriguing. She was nothing like those pureblood princesses he knew. She could retaliate better than the best of them, and it had been wonderful to watch her go hammer and tongs for Rasmussen, and Bellatrix. "No," he thought correcting himself, "It was scary to watch her go after Bellatrix." [The tiny first year had gone after the mad witch, who had turned up two days later with severe fear of any equine sounds, smells or sights. Hadrian had realised he had done to her torturer what she had done to Umbridge].

It was more difficult for Lily. She had trusted Severus completely. Jane was someone who not only did not appreciate her friendship with Severus, but also had openly questioned whether he really was a friend if he wasn't letting her be friends with others. When Lily had protested that Snape wouldn't **_allow_** her to befriend others, the disgust on Jane's face had been palpable. She had made Lily introspect. Even though Severus was her friend, she realised, he did not own her – rather, it was very selfish on his part to obstruct her from building relationships with other people.

Jane also brought in a greater degree of control over his hatred of Severus. 'Harry', while he would otherwise counter Hadrian, helping the Hand take better decisions, was utterly useless in terms of exercising any restraint against Snape. Jane's arrival cured that. Harry was so accustomed to listening to her that he stopped going after Snape anymore. Jane had never said that he should do away with the effects of any curses already working on Snape.

Most importantly, Jane's job was to torture, interrogate and heal captured D.E.s, just to repeat the treatment. The One knew that Jane (Hermione) was sensitive, and had chiselled her into an unfeeling interrogator. Both had their original memories, just to ensure that they would not go dark – to ensure that they wouldn't be crazed maniacs with bloodlust.

The two had spent the time from Halloween to Christmas in understanding spell-crafting. They were without doubt the two most advanced magic users. Yet, they needed new spells – particularly, battle-spells and healing spells. Hermione was keener on them, particularly because Hadrian would simply not let her into battle. Each time when she had faced battle, she had returned terribly injured. That would not do. She was not going into battle, even though it was impossible for her to be hurt. Hadrian on the other hand started to work on interrogation spells. Often, Oaths, Vows, Fidelius Charms, Memory Modifications, almost impenetrable Occlumency were some of the ways that standard methods of interrogation failed. This was a difficult job. They had set specific priorities, however. Standard Battle Spells were still useful, even though newer ones were always welcome. But the interrogation spells were much more important and high-priority.

There were a few bones of contention. Hadrian was dead set upon using House-elves in the interrogation area to aid her, and also for transporting D.E.s that had been earmarked for interrogation. She hated the idea of employing House-Elves, even though she now knew that she would be helping the subservient creatures live and survive. She was also adamant that they use time-turners instead. Eventually they came to a truce. They decided to use both. No resource was abhorred in wartime.

* * *

It was a week before the Christmas break that Lily accosted Hadrian.

"Jameson," she said in nervous curtness.

"Ms. Evans," he acknowledged neutrally. "What do you require from me?"

Lily cringed at the cold yet neutral and dry tone he employed. "May we have a little privacy? I must talk to you."

"Why should I trust you to not hex me, or sell me to Snivellus Snake?" Jane's 'no torment' edict couldn't force him to be civil. It had become quite the game for the two. They constantly tried to convince the other about something and the other would try and find loopholes.

Lily stiffened at the appellation he had given Severus, but Jane had explained that Jameson never bullied anyone. Moreover, he never hated or distrusted anyone without reason. She had also _implied_ that he was somewhat a seer, as was she. She wondered what he had seen in Severus' future, if at all, that made him literally despise her friend. It wasn't the time to ponder however. So she handed Jameson her wand, handle first, as Jane had taught her.

"Very well; lead on."

They settled in an adjacent classroom. "Speak."

The way in which her features contorted made it seem as if she was being forced to do some heinous act. "I intend to apologise to you for my conduct over this term. I was, as you said, a foolish girl. I am sorry."

"Alright," replied Hadrian. He wouldn't forgive anyone, not even the girl who would go on to be his mother – that was bloody convoluted.

"Alright?" asked Lily. "That is all you have to say?"

"I would prefer it if you were to tell me what exactly the problem that you have with me is."

Lily blushed. Jane had told her that this would be something Hadrian would ask. She stuttered a bit, but told him.

Much aside from the fact that this was an excellent opportunity to destroy Snivellus, Harry nearly heaved at the thought. "Ms. Evans, it will be unsurprising for you to know that I sincerely detest your...ah...er...friend. He has a particular brand of darkness to his heart that could lead him to kill the one closest to his heart. Please do consider this, however. I am but eleven – I am unlikely to think of such things. But if it will help calm you, please consider this. I am under Oath and Vow to be a celibate till death or disappearance. Also, have you realised that while accusing me of 'trying to get into you knickers' – as he so delicately put it – Snivellus Snake showed that it is he who is actually thinking of such... _things?_ "

Lily gaped at him. Now that she came to think of it, she just couldn't believe that she had been so foolish. She did not like the fact, but it was true. Severus was acting like the people who seemed to think that he owned her. Her face turned red in anger. "I am far more foolish than I used to think," she muttered to herself. "Be that as it may, can we be friends?"

Harry would have jumped at the chance to be friends with his mum, but the Hand wouldn't. "Ms. Evans, at best, I can hope for truce, as of now. Right now, I don't trust you enough to be my friend. Maybe, one day, we might be friends. That day is not today." Lily's disappointment was shining on her face. "Do not fret, Ms. Evans. It is not the nature of people like me, paranoid to the core, to be trusting of other people. It takes time, but we shall be friends."

Lily could only smile half-heartedly. But the smile on Jameson's face (she wondered if they were related – he looked a lot like her Daddy except the hair) reduced her sadness.

* * *

As they were packing, Hadrian stayed behind to speak with Remus. It was important to put him at ease. He very innocently went up to Remus and said, "Remus? Could you spare some time please? Jane and I wanted to talk to you in private."

"Oh?" Remus was quaking internally. He did not want to lose his two friends. In spite of the thoughts that the two had put forth, them knowing about his affliction was still a very terrifying prospect for the shunned young werewolf. He followed Hadrian to an alcove under the tower, where Jane was waiting.

"Remus," started Jane, "do you know what is common for the 4th and 5th of September, the 4th and 5th of October, the 2nd and 3rd of November and the 1st, 2nd and 3rd of December?"

That was it. They had listed the first four full moons after the start of term. Remus started shaking in sadness, fright and anger. "So you found out?" he ground out, more as a statement than a question.

"Yes."

"Well you won't see my face again, then," he said angrily.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know I am a werewolf. You are scared of me. Even though you say that I am not a dark creature, you won't be my friends..."

"Whoa! Stop right there! We both said that we don't think werewolves are dark. Why would we be afraid of you, or not be your friends? We just realised that you need help, and we have found a way."

Remus stood stunned and stock-still. Of every probability he had ever imagined, this wasn't one of them. "Are you serious?"

Hadrian couldn't help the smirk he exchanged with Jane. "No. Mate, I am Hadrian and this is Jane. Black is Sirius." Remus couldn't stop the snort of laughter that escaped him.

"But on a more er...serious note, yes, we are serious. We found out that werewolves don't attack animals but attack humans. We don't like the idea of you being alone. Right now there isn't much we can do immediately, apart from searching all sorts of arcane books. But we can turn into animagi like Professor McGonagall. I mean, we still have to hope that we don't have feline forms – werewolves and canines don't mix with felines."

Remus was now nearly crying. "I can't put you in-"

"You aren't, Remus. We wish to do it voluntarily. There is no known cure for you yet. That doesn't mean that we can't do anything to help you. There are still a few variables regarding the forms, but as of now, that is the best idea we have." Jane was very earnest with her reasoning. "Also secondly, and I hope that you discuss this with Professor McGonagall, please don't use the 'my mum is ill' or 'my relative is dead' reasons. It becomes very suspicious. We will both keep running interference for you, so that you don't have to lie. But if someone does find out, just say that you were cursed as a child, and that to remove the effects of the curse you have to perform a magically draining ritual to ensure that you get to keep your life and magic on every full moon night."

It was comical to see their friend and ex-professor with his mouth agape. Not only was the reason true and valid, but it also kept away any unwanted questions. "Thank you. Thank you, both of you. You are the best friends I could have!" he said with suspiciously bright eyes. He made to leave, but Harry stopped him.

"Remus, remember. I told you something the first night we came here. Neither Jane nor I will be around forever, most certainly not after November 1978. We don't want you hurt. Our dorm-mates are good people. Learn to trust them. Maybe one day you will not fear them knowing your secret. We won't tell anyone, but widen your boundaries. I told you that I am somewhat of a seer. The only reason that James won't name you his son's godfather will be the Ministry rules regarding child custody. All four of you must remain very close. There is a war coming Remus, and willingly or not, everyone will be pulled into it. Make sure that your friends are all people that you will trust." Hadrian and Jane left leaving Remus to mull over the ominous words.


	4. Christmas Gifts to

**Christmas Gifts to...**

As soon as the two time-travellers alighted from the Hogwarts express, they were met by both sets of grandparents. Charlus cast a quick notice-me-not. "Hadrian Jameson and Jane Bennett – my grandson and Heir's Heir, and the future Lady, I believe?" A steel-veined interrogator and torturer she made have become, but the statement posed as a question made her blush. Harry's answer made that deepen.

"Yes sir. She will be known as Hermione Granger."

"Not related to the Dagworth-Grangers are you?"

"I was – will be a newblood sir."

"Newblood; I like that term. If you can, get the blood of your parents, I will have it tested. In the current scenario, it will be useful to protect them. They could be squibs or descendants."

"Thank you, sir."

"Please, little lady, call me Charlus or Grandpa or whatever you'd want to call me. Not 'sir'. Not 'Lord Potter' or any appellations thereof."

Jane only nodded.

"Now, Matthew here has decided to go one better on your plan to rent rooms at the Leaky Cauldron." He raised a hand to stop protests from the two. "I am giving you one of the Potter Time Turners. They take you back thirty minutes per turn. You will use them for your alibis. You won't live at the Cauldron though, whatever may be the case. You seem to forget that if this Voldemort creature burns down Diagon Alley, the Leaky Cauldron will go down too."

"Thank you...Grandfather." That made Charlus very happy.

"I will be casting the Fidelius charm on the flat and the other place, both purchased in my name. Only the owner can cast the charm. It has to be done with the secret-keeper present. Since it takes a lot of power, I will do the special place first. We will head there after we visit the flat."

Both families were using time-turners. So, one pair was with the children, while the other was with the grandchildren. The two Potters, two Evanses, and two time travellers, stood in the flat in a few instants. The flat was in a small apartment block near Gillespie Road in North London. And it was itself more than just a flat. It was a duplex apartment – a combination of two flats on two floors. It was very near Highbury. It was large enough for both to have different rooms on the same floor. "I will be getting my elves to do the masonry work. Just tell them how you want it. You can use magic to help, of course."

"Of course, Grandfather; we need this to be a very secure den to use it properly."

"Excellent!" Charlus said, happy to have helped his grandson.

"Now, I think all four of us can agree that we need to hear the start of a plan, at the very least," Dorea demanded.

"And you shall have it, Grandmother," Harry said, testing and tasting the word as he said it. "We have several important things to do. Firstly, two more people will be sent back. One is Mad-Eye Moody, you know him as Alastor. Sometime this week, there will be an attack on Diagon Alley. We will be fighting with him then. We are likely to stun him because he'll return then. We don't want him KIA just because of disorientation. Just make sure that he is there."

"I presume he died?" Matthew asked sombrely.

"There was hardly anyone we cared about that wasn't dead, grandfather," Hadrian replied and sighed wearily. "The second is Remus Lupin."

"James and Lily wrote home and mentioned him."

"Yes. Don't be surprised if he cries over all of you or something. All of you had become as close to being his family as was possible. He is a werewolf. Fenrir Greyback bit him when he was four." They explained the condition and also the Wolfsbane potion that they would be making for Moony eventually. "We will be attempting animagus transformations. Remus will return after the first full moon night we spend with him. Both of them, unlike us, will remain. We have to...die, or else we won't be born. We have to do our job before 1979, when Hermione was conceived. Her parents were reasonably old enough to have a child, unlike mine. The point of all this, is that Remus will have the older Remus' memories, but the younger Remus' consciousness. Mad-Eye will be replaced, soul for soul. As for us, the soul can't exist twice in the same timeline. If we exist, your grandson and Hermione Granger won't be born." Harry let out an explosive breath.

Hermione continued seamlessly, "In the upcoming battle, we are going to capture a few DEs. And we shall kill all the rest. We shall spend some time deciphering the Dark Mark, then create wards and rune arrays to stop them at least some way from the place where the intend to be. Fiendfyre shields, ward overpowering prevention, and the like, are necessary. We need ways to test this. If we put a majority of the DEs to death, Voldemort will have to step back a bit. We cannot completely destroy them in one go. Just so you know, grandfather, do you remember the House-elf Hokey who was put to death for the murder of Hephzibah Smith? Tom Riddle, a halfblood, stole Slytherin's Locket and Hufflepuff's cup from her. He is now known as Voldemort. He has created Horcruxes, in plural."

Dorea shrieked and almost fainted. Charlus was similarly shaking and summoned a half-bottle of Firewhiskey and downed most of it in a gulp. He also fortified his wife with the rest of the bottle. "Run that by me again?"

"Tom Riddle has created several Horcruxes. We destroyed them in the old time. His first was as a sixteen year old. He murdered his father and paternal grandparents. The Chamber of Secrets thing was his first, actually. He murdered Myrtle Roberts and used her death for the Horcrux. The second was for the Death of the Riddles. It is the Resurrection Stone. Then he used Ravenclaw's Diadem, Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's Locket. We are unsure as of now which he has not made Horcruxes of among the latter two. I have retrieved the diadem. We shall be studying it. Unless these are destroyed, he cannot be eliminated."

"What are these Horse-Curses?" Matthew

"Horcruxes; they are the way of tying pieces of soul to the mortal realm by ritual murder of a child or an innocent, which is taken to mean a virgin. I was to be the last ritual murder the last time around. He made five of those and intended to make seven pieces." Rose rushed to the bathroom, and regurgitated her lunch.

"What else?" Matthew asked after a long silence.

"Hadrian will borrow a rooster, kill the basilisk in the chamber of secrets because he is a natural Parselmouth, then get the beast rendered and sell it very, very slowly. That will generate funds. We will need you to key me into the vault at Gringotts. We will first find a way to disenchant the galleons, sickles and Knuts. Then we will sell the metal on the muggle noble metal market. The money so generated will be muggle money which has to be exchanged at Gringotts for more gold. It is not really legal, but it will help fund the operations.

"Apart from that, the only thing that remains to be done is getting both our parents together. Steven and Alice Granger got together in 1974. But that is another matter. Right now, all that matters is that we take down Voldemort.

"That is about the gist of it," Jane concluded.

Finally, Rose piped up with her dissent. "I am not sure I like the idea of my grandchildren being murderers."

Hadrian chose to answer this. " ** _Mrs. Evans_** ," again Rose winced, "do you know what it takes to bind the dark mark to a person?" When she didn't (of course, she couldn't) answer, Hadrian continued, "It takes the ritualistic rape, torture and murder of a virgin woman to stain the soul. Is bringing them all to justice murder? As we see it, we are vigilante soldiers. I would rather that your daughter and son stay alive, instead of those who take the mark. If you are so truly, adamantly opposed to this plan, do tell me. We will make you forget all about this and you will be free to leave. You are here only because Grandfather Evans is. We studied you, **_Mrs. Evans_**. You are a lot more like your eldest daughter."

All of Rose's resistance died at that. She knew that Hadrian had enough reason to hate Pet. She did not want to be classed into that category by her grandson. She also realised that the kid was pushing her buttons. Charlus was Grandfather Potter, Dorea was Grandmother Potter, Matthew was Grandfather Evans, but she...she was **_Mrs. Evans_**.

"It is just that I don't like the idea of killing..."

"And as you have been told, **_Mrs. Evans_** , we have the orders of the Divine Power to dispense justice. It is our job to do so. If you do not wish to help, at least do not hinder!"

"Harry stop," Jane commanded. "Mrs. Evans, what we are doing absolves your children of the responsibility and the danger of having to ever fight a war. We are the Hands of The One. It is divine intervention. Do you really wish to go against that?"

Thoroughly beaten, Rose backed down. "I am sorry. You are both right."

"What are we to do in the interim?" Dorea asked, trying to give Rose a break.

"You need to contact your eldest brother, Lord Black, Grandmother," answered Jane. "Barring your great-nephew Sirius, who was my godfather, nobody else not disowned and disinherited formally was free of the mark. Of course, Andromeda will soon be disowned for marrying the newblood Ted Tonks. Please convince Lord Black to keep a wait-and-watch position in this situation. Emphasise that the Black Family gift of Metamorphmagi is being lost due to the pureblood dogma. Andromeda's daughter Nymphadora will show the reemergence of the Black family gift of the Metamorphmagi. Just convince Andy to name the poor girl something else. She hated her first name If you can, get him to decree that anyone harbouring ambitions of joining up with Voldemort and kissing his robes to be declared an oath-breaker and to be brought to judgement by family magic immediately.

"Eliminate Walburga Black. And I actually mean eliminate, kill, destroy, annihilate, whatever. She is insane. If you can, get yourselves named as the guardians of choice for both Sirius and Regulus. As of now, there is very little the others can do. This is solely your job. You need to get into a position of power, as the power behind Arcturus. We do not expect you to make much headway immediately, even though Arcturus is wise and a true Black – he will bow to no one else. In the case that he doesn't come around at all, we will be shocking the family out of its skin."

"What should I tell him?"

"Firstly, talk to Dumbledore and get blood inheritance tests performed on all newbloods, half-bloods and those of unknown heritage. This will be proof that newbloods are in fact descendents of squibs. Then tell him, that, when this Voldemort comes to recruit, he should research Tom Marvolo Riddle. He is the son of one of Slytherin's descendents, The Gaunts. He is also the son of a muggle manor lord, Tom Riddle, who had been raped using Amortentia."

"Arcturus will like that. He wants the Blacks to be Grey, but he finds too much resistance."

"Grey is always better. I personally am of the opinion that even the House of Potter should be Grey. Dumbledore is not the wisest and greatest people around, and I for one, would rather dissociate from his ideals."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Magically, he is the wisest, greatest and most powerful wizard – mind you, I said wizard, not man," explained Hadrian. "He foolishly lets problems fester and has no inclination to nip them in the bud as he should with the power he wields. He'll start a vigilante group, Order of the Phoenix, again. They will fight with stunners against Unforgivables. My main contention against him is that he believes in redemption and forgiveness without punishment. He'll want them put in Azkaban. By itself, there is no problem with that. But they need not be left alive. In my timeline, many of the DEs bribed their way out. He was then unable, even with his positions to fight them off politically."

"You want everyone to be killers?"

"No. But a slicing, or bludgeoning or reductor hex works just as well. They want to kill you. Why not defend yourself? Just put them out of commission altogether. That'll frustrate them. Frustration causes mistakes."

"That's true," agreed Matthew. "What should we do for protection?"

"There are three things. One, arm yourself with rifles and the like. Wizards are foolish. They have no defence against muggle means, whatsoever. Within the time it takes to say spells, they will become blocks of matured cheese with the holes the bullets will leave. Use knives and other slicing weapons because that will make short work of them. Snap their wands. Use cricket bats to their heads to put them out cold. Set up prank traps; as soon as you see them, fling boulders or the sort. Once you are done, perform strip searches. Any wands, potions and the sort should be destroyed immediately. Don't hold back." Hermione/Jane knew that they would baulk at the violence, but this was necessary. "I will be creating a trunk of sorts. You could call it an incinerator. Only, I will be using Fiendfyre. Anything that goes in will be completely destroyed with no evidence left. Bodies included.

"Secondly, we will be giving you permanent Portkeys. These will work in spite of any anti-apparition or anti-portkey wards. The modus operandi of the Death Eaters is to torture, kill and seal the house before setting it on fire. You will need ways to detect unknown magical presence. I am in the process of creating an instrument which will recognise those that you shall allow. As of now, it will only be us four. The Death Eaters may wise up and use muggles to get to you, either through the Imperius curse or using Polyjuice. I will explain things better later on. Ask security questions, and change them constantly. They should be very particular. We shall also give you extendable trunks with blood and password protections. If you are attacked, all your belongings will be magically packed. Hold on to the trunks and the portkey and you will be out. Houses can be rebuilt. Families can't. Do not engage if the odds are worse that 2 against one. Thirdly, make contact with the families of other newbloods. All this will keep you safe."

"Alastor will love you two," Charlus said with a snigger.

"We hope so. You can do much of the same too. You will be well advised to get war-wards. If you can, modify anti-vampire wards to also stave off anyone without a complete soul, and also with a dark mark. Extend it beyond the boundaries of your Houses to at least fifty metre. That is about all you can do."

"These are very well-thought out protections. We will certainly use them. Thank you," Dorea said with much emotion.

"Don't thank us. What we intend to do will work only if you are protected. Grandfather Potter, if we could impose upon you to place a mid-level person in the Department of Regulation of Magical Travel, we would be much obliged."

"I already have done that. I anticipated this. I will be the intermediary between Annabelle Kelvin and you, and will be passing the information to you..."

"Thank you! Though, if you want to contact us, send us Patronus messages." Hadrian showed them how. "This is the most secure manner of communication." He looked at Jane who nodded and said, "I think we should all move. We have some assassinations to plan."

The two older men only chuckled indulgently, as the group left to see the Planning, torture, interrogation and execution Centre (PTIEC). They would need to have lot of work done, but it was good enough. Charlus cast the Fidelius on the place, and Hermione was the Secret-Keeper. It was the planned portkey destination for the Evanses. It also would be Mad-Eye's residence if he wanted it to be. And last but not the least, it had place for Moony to transform.

Charlus would be returning the following day to cast the Fidelius on the flat. The charm took a lot of power, and it would be very difficult for him to do the two in the same day. The Elders took their leave.

* * *

The two Hands of The One were engaged in a discussion regarding the people they would have to assassinate.

"Voldemort and his Death Eaters are fair game. It is the others that we know need to be eliminated that are the problem."

"So it is necessary to state the obvious?"

"I was just trying to be official."

"You are very poor at it, Harry. Let us not waste our time. I vote for Dolores Umbridge."

"Shit. I was going to vote for her. Well, I am going for Rita Skeeter."

"That's necessary?"

"She was Voldemort's unofficial spy and propaganda specialist. She and that rag, the Prophet, fourth year, remember? She laid the groundwork for them for the following year."

"But she helped us!"

"No she was blackmailed into helping us,"Hadrian corrected. "Where do you think all that Anti-Dumbledore propaganda came from – The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore? She went back to her original stand as soon as her coffers were filled back up."

"Ah, yes. So Rita Skeeter it is. I want to take out Pius Thicknesse."

"Nice one that. Let me see? Gilderoy Lockhart!"

"Yeah, we need to put him out of his memorable misery. Fenrir Greyback..."

"No. We capture him, but keep him for Moony."

"Griphook, I want to kill that piece of shite."

"Yes, but we'll have to make it look like he disappeared. I wouldn't want a rebellion by those filthy backstabbing beasts."

"True."

"I think we should take out Slughorn."

"Yes. He will keep on playing both sides. He remained out of the battle while it looked like Voldemort was winning, you know that don't you?"

"That is just what was expected from him. I would wager he would want to be on our side if we had gone back or something."

"True. Nadia Armani."

"Who's she?"

"Blaise Zabini's mum. She was the one who was taking up husband after husband, killing them and supplying part of the money to the DEs."

"Albert Runcorn."

"He was that git Arthur threatened, wasn't he?"

"Yes." Harry noticed a pained grimace on Hermione's face when Arthur was mentioned.

"What's the matter, Hermione?"

"He...Oh Harry, he died protecting me!" She broke into sobs. This had been something that she had been unable to purge at all, even with the One.

"I get it that you felt guilty, but why are you crying now, Hermione?"

"He died!"

"And he is alive! We have been given a chance to correct the whole thing! Granted, we might not be able to save them all, but we will, and we can stop our friends from having to fight again, at the very least!"

Hermione nodded into his chest. She kept forgetting that this was the second chance, and she could make them all pay. It would take time, but she would have to accept things as they were.

"Whom else should we protect? Apart from the actual people we came back to protect, that is."

"Regulus Black."

"Of course, he was the only one who actively worked against Voldemort, unlike Snivellus 'he has my complete trust' Snape."

"Barty Crouch Jr."

"Why do we protect him?"

"Do you know why he went to the DEs?"

"No. I always assumed he was bad somehow."

"No. He batted for the home team. He and Rabastan..."

"Yuck! Well that was to the image. I honestly can't even bear to imagine any Death Eater having someone to love or love them back. That's why I liked it when you made it impossible for them to breed." She took a deep breath before continuing, "I take it Papa Crouch was unhappy?"

"Is there a doubt?"

"No. Can we take him out?"

"No. He was useful to an extent."

"Hmm. Wait a minute, Harry! I know who we have to eliminate!"

"Who?"

"Stake out Knockturn Alley and Borgin and Burke. They need to all be eliminated."

"Excellent! That gives us a reason to stake out near The Leaky Cauldron!"

"I think we should steal the vanishing cabinet in the shop."

"Oh, good, you reminded me of it." He took out the Vanishing Cabinet he had shrunk and borrowed from the RoR. "Where should we keep the two?"

"One here and one in the flat?" asked Jane.

"That works for me. Otherwise, we could always keep one shrunken in our pocket and keep it in the Chamber of Secrets while at Hogwarts, and keep shifting it."

"That is a far better idea." She kissed him again, and Hadrian fainted again. Oddly for an emotionless soldier and interrogator that she was supposed to be, Jane giggled.

* * *

Later that night after they'd had dinner and had also stolen the Vanishing Cabinet, Harry decided to speak to Hermione. "Hermione, I am sorry. And I thank you."

"Harry what - ?"

"No. Please let me speak. I did not protest much against Ron beyond a little token in the first year. I took his side against you in the third. I lost my chance to ask you out during the fourth and did not respect you enough even after everything you did for me. You nearly died in the fifth year. You made your parents forget about you before the hunt. There are a few things I never said to you. I have made more mistakes while being your friend by being cruel to you in a way than the moments I have lived. I am sorry for being a poor friend, a disgustingly poor friend at that. I am sorry for being a royal arse to you. I am sorry that I don't deserve you. I am sorry for not understanding that what you were showing me through your behaviour was love. I am sorry for taking you for granted. I am sorry for bringing you into a past I wished to change. And I thank you for still putting up with me through everything." He hugged her tightly. "I have realised it very late, and in a past which we will not live out. But I do not care for anything else Jane Bennett. I love you. I love you as Hermione Granger. And I love you as Jane Bennett. And I will do so when we will be reborn, and again, and again."

And this time he kissed her.

Hermione was now happy. She was delirious. Finally, after waiting and getting frustrated for so many years, she had heard what she wanted to hear from Harry. She doubted that when – not if – Harry and Hermione were actually born, things would change. A fool was Harry, but a promise-breaker he wasn't. "And I love you too..." she said dreamily.

* * *

Over the next three days, the two methodically set up several stimulus-triggered, localised annihilators (Fiendfyre triggers) in Knockturn Alley, with internalising components. That meant that the places would be destroyed from inside. When Voldemort attacked Diagon Alley, the stimulus would be provided to trigger the annihilators. Any shop or place that would be a dealing/meeting place for the DEs was targeted. During that time, four DEs were cornered and their memories were copied. It would not do for Voldemort to know that he had been compromised yet. The Diadem had been divested of the soul piece, which had been transferred into a copy of the metal detector. That had been something the One had taught them.

Of course, all that was done after assiduously inspecting everything for the presence of a Horcrux. They found one, but it wasn't Voldemort's.

Truthfully, The One could have made the two perfectly able to bypass any sort of protections, if they knew the protections in the first place. But he might then as well have just waltzed in to all places where the soul was scattered, killed Voldemort himself and let the idiotic witches and wizards to fend for themselves. So instead, he gave his Hands knowledge. He taught them personally and showed them magics of every kind, light, dark, grey; human, goblin, elf or centaur.

The two took the detector to the cave and obviously found nothing. The Gaunt Shack yielded the Ring. They broke into Malfoy Manor, and were unable to find the diary. They were unable to break into Gringotts for the samef reason, but then Hermione had a far better idea. Creating another detector based on the piece in the ring was easy. This new detector was installed under the pavement outside the bank. It would be linked to an alert mechanism which would be tied to both. The modus operandi would be simple. Whenever the alert mechanism was activated, the two would apparate an hour later outside the bank. Then they would go back in time and identify the person who would trigger the alarm. Once the person had done whatever they intended to, and stepped out of the bank, they would be interrogated and Imperiused to hand over the object. Magic was wonderful. The eventual objective was to find all the pieces and force them into the Diary. It had no significance. Destroying it would enrage Voldemort, but he was also arrogant enough to believe that people would not find better ways to beat him.

Seven years was a long time in which to work on a single, if multilayered, problem. So they took upon a new task. They started creating undetectable wards. All that they would do was going into the Potter Grimoire. Alternatively, if Hermione's magical ancestors were decent families at the current time, half of the research would go into her families' Grimoires. They were actually getting more things done and learning more things than they had in all six years combined that Harry and Hermione had attended Hogwarts.

* * *

On Christmas Eve, Voldemort finally struck. The idiot did have a flair for dramatics after all. From their stake out point – Harry was in outside the Apothecary, while Hermione was at Fortescue's – they saw Voldemort leading the gang of sixteen from one side, and another DE leading another twelve from the other. The idea was to take people unawares and terrorise them by locking them between two platoons, so to speak. Hermione's job was to stun and capture Mad-Eye. Harry had the drop on the smaller platoon, and so he stunned them all with a barrage stunner. This was a special kind of Stunner which could be cast area wide with quick slashing movements. Within four slashes, they were all out. He then took out a handful of marbles from his pocket which were supposed to be prank aids, turned them into Portkeys and dumped the twelve into the PTIEC. He then moved closer to Voldemort's platoon through the shadows.

"F-H, twelve hostiles down. Seen quarry?"

"The quarry has apparated into battle."

"Let him engage a few, then summon, stun and portkey to PTIEC; over and out."

M-H then struck at two Death Eaters. After a powerful mental probe which revealed that they were not inner circle, were not imperiused and had no idea about any of the trinkets, they were taken care of with a slicing hex, decapitating them – only after they had been isolated. A quick Incendio cauterised the dead bodies. These were thrown in front of the DEs. That proved to be enough distraction as F-H got the drop on Mad-Eye and took him out.

"M-H, quarry taken, disengage. Do not decimate forces. Repeat. Do not decimate forces. Disengage."

"Orders copied. Will disengage from safe point."

Harry was also cocky. He got to a safe place, and scanned every DE. Only one knew about any trinket. It was Rasmussen – and he knew about the Diadem. He was killed with a Reducto to the Head. The others were not engaged with. M-H took a portkey off to PTIEC.

It was about as efficient a first operation as could be. Voldemort's forces had been halved. This, in the first timeline had been a massacre. The first twenty eight DEs, five of them being inner circle including Rasmussen, had killed sixteen people. This time Voldemort had lost fifteen people, including two inner circle DEs and had killed ' ** _only_** ' four. It was a clear reason for the madman to stay low for the time being.

* * *

Upon arrival at the PTIEC, he wrote down a summary of the fight and filed it. Things were not official, but he entered their pensieve and captured photographs of the three killed. The photographs would also be filed. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger would not have Gregory Goyle as a classmate. Served him right, thought M-H. He had tried to kill them using Fiendfyre. The three dead were Jeremy Goyle, Clarke Pursang and Paul Rasmussen. They were the first casualties of war.

"Are you well?" asked Jane from behind him.

"Yes; just completed the report. Not much. Only Rasmussen knew about the trinkets, and it was the Diadem. I think the Gaunt Shack needs to be monitored. Anyone approaching it must be scanned and killed if necessary."

"Agreed."

"Mad-Eye give you trouble?"

"No. I took him out from behind."

"Good. Who do we get to first? Mad-Eye or the DEs?"

"Mad-Eye; we need help."

"Have you stripped them?"

"All of them. The DEs are nothing much, but Mad-Eye had three daggers, two hidden wands, a poison prick each in his shoes, and a nerve cutter steel tooth. He also had two steel files on his wrists. Damn! That man is beyond insane."

"I am all for it if it keeps him alive."

Mad-Eye had been tied with chains to each limb outstretched. He did not yet have the fake eye and fake leg. He had been stunned twice over. Jane revived him, and then both the Hands nullified him with a full force Aguamenti blast.

Mad-Eye eyed around owlishly. He sported a small grin. For people not in the know, this would have been the start of brutal torture. For Mad-Eye, this would be respect. He was being considered a dangerous person by his captors. He then realised something else. He was feeling pain in his left foot. And he had a normal eye! This, more than anything else, disoriented the veteran Auror. His last memory was of the fool Mundungus apparating off the broom and being struck with YKW's killing curse.

"...Alastor Moody," a female voice said. Had he been caught by the Lestrange bitch? "Prove that you are Alastor Moody."

"Wait, Hermione. Let the man get his bearings. He has travelled twenty six years back in time, damn it."

"Yes. But Harry, he needs to prove that he is Mad-Eye..."

"And you need to be better interrogators. Of all the people to join Voldemort, I did not suspect you, Potter. If you are Potter," that is snarled Alastor.

"Calm down, Professor. Get used to your surroundings."

Mad-Eye did just that. He realised the physical changes. He also realised that he had been stripped bare of all his knick-knacks. He then realised that he didn't have the files on his wrists. He also had magical suppression cuffs on. He grinned dangerously. Yes. His captors were thorough. This was at least better than anything else.

He looked at the boy and the girl. Now that he realised it, the girl looked like Granger, but the boy did not look like Potter. Perhaps he was using Polyjuice. And that explained why **_he_** was physically fit.

As if his mind had been read, Mad-Eye had a mirror placed before him. He was himself! He had no physical disabilities, no clawed foot, no magical eye, and his nose was intact too!

"What is this? Who are you?" he roared.

"We will tell you after you prove that you are Alastor Moody. How did you once get the eye?" He was force fed Veritaserum.

"Minerva McGonagall punched my eye through when I tried to peek at her through the door while she was living at my home for Order work."

"Which House were you in?"

"I was homeschooled."

"What did Evan Rosier do to you?"

"He took a part of my nose."

That was enough to prove. He was given the anti-agent. "Mad-Eye, we are going to take oaths. Listen carefully now."

"I, Hermione Jane Granger/Hadrian James Potter, known in this time as Jane Bennett/Hadrian Jameson, swear upon my magic and my soul, that time is being rewritten from September 1, 1971. There have been a few changes which I shall explain to Alastor Moody. I am against Voldemort. I know how to defeat him. I swear to tell Alastor Moody, also known as Mad-Eye Moody, a member of the Order of Phoenix till his death on the night of the 28th of July 1997 the truth. So I swear, so shall it be."

"Lumos!" Bright light filled the room.

"This works for you, Mad-Eye?"

"Whatever this madness is, at least we are not enemies yet. Why am I tied?"

"You would have gone berserk, you old coot. We could do without being hexed. And this way, we were being vigilant, if you weren't Mad-Eye."

"Very good, Potter, Granger, you weren't my students, but you do me proud."

"Shut the crap, Mad-Eye. You don't praise anyone unless you have a 'but' in there somewhere."

"Now I am really proud. Will you explain what is going on here?"

Tippy the elf brought in the pensieve. Another oath that the memories were true worked for Mad-Eye. They spent the next two hours over the memories as Mad-Eye went through them with the proverbial fine-toothed comb.

"That old coot!" he growled, once he was done. "He made us protect a glass ball when he could have had us searching for those trinkets!"

"When did Albus ever give out his secrets, Mad-Eye?"

"Too true, lass. But what were you lot doing? I have never seen such shabbily undertaken operations! Living in tents instead of making a well protected, heavily warded centre of operations? And that Weasley boy! Did you check him for the Dark Mark? NO!"

"Don't we know, Mad-Eye? We are now in 1971. We are not in an alternate timeline. The same one is being rewritten, or overwritten, if you prefer that. Can't you help us now?"

"Not before you tell me how I got here."

And so they explained the Master of Death and other such madness. He was told when and how Remus and he would return. He accepted it. He was a soldier after all. His was not to question.

"Hmphf," he huffed. "What have you done yet?"

And so, Hermione gave him an entire progress report. Harry brought in the file for him to check. "At least you have learnt. Well done. We will find out what else to do. Now, when are we?"

"Christmas Eve, just after the first attack on Diagon Alley. Voldemort attacked with 28 goons. He has lost fifteen. I killed three..."

"Yeah, one of 'em knew of the trinkets. Good job kid."

"The other twelve are in magical suppression cuffs, stunned and bound, and weapon-less in the basement. We thought you would like to join us."

Mad-Eye grinned horribly again. "Let us do so, then."

* * *

The twelve DEs were now bound by the three in much the same way that Mad-Eye had been. In a very _muggle_ manner, the room was dark, and each one had a very bright light hanging in front of their eyes. Before Hermione could start the interrogation, however, Mad-Eye stopped them.

"Change your voices. They should not know who is interrogating them."

"Why will that matter? We are going to put them to Death anyway."

"Learn, kid. If you let a few of them go, it creates strife in enemy ranks. Who betrayed them? Why were only the few we let go the ones to be let go? It will make Voldemort lie low and temporarily change tactics. As long as he does not become a somewhat feared entity in the magical world he won't trouble the muggles. Keep him off balance. That way he will have to lie low for a while, giving you time to search for the trinkets..."

"...And giving him time and incentive to make some more!" Harry snarled.

That stopped Alastor short. "Oh. Forgot about that one."

"'sokay. Do we kill them?"

"No. Same thing it will do."

"Lockhart them!" squealed Hermione. "Fry their brains!"

"That works!"

Hermione channelled her inner Bellatrix for the rest of the night. Beyond finding a few names, they got nothing about the trinkets. So the lesser ones had their brains fried, while the others went into the furnace.

"It's no use," growled Harry. "Voldemort hasn't trusted them yet. We will have to do the same to him!"

"Might as well Imperio the wanker and be done with it. Couldn't you have come sometime later? 1976 or something?"

"We're supposed to save Crouch Jr. and Pettigrew, and Regulus Black."

"Ah. That would complicate matters lad. What about Snape?"

"We have been told to eliminate the problem. I am waiting to write his obituary."

"You are a fool then. If you are so good at powerful Legillimency, why don't yeh just create a long-running suggestion that makes him hate the Dork Lard and think of Evans as a sister?"

"Oh." Harry clearly hadn't thought of that.

"What did you do to him?"

"Fudged his brain up. He thinks of the Death Eaters as the greatest role models ever."

Mad-Eye slapped his forehead with his palm. "Idiot. That's what you are, you berk. Reassign his brain to think of nothing but Potions and create an aversion against Riddle and anything anyone supporting him. Whatever bone you had to pick with him, I don't care. He was an excellent Potions master. He will be useful. If he becomes an isolated bloke, let him. Make him a resource!" Mad-Eye ordered with a growl.

It was why Mad-Eye was important. As an old experienced Auror, he knew how to actually create resources, especially where the resource was itself an enemy, initially.

* * *

"Say, Mad-Eye, would you like two trinkets as Christmas gifts?"

"I am not a pretty lady, lad. Give me a wand instead."

"Do you really want it? I can make them powerful and undetectable if you like."

"Can you make me one?"

"Sure. Mind accompanying me to Hogwarts? There's a basilisk down there that will make excellent material and core."

There was not much they needed. A transfigured and Imperiused rooster, and Harry, was enough. Thankfully, Mad-Eye knew rendering. They apparated outside Hogwarts and Harry disillusioned them with the Elder wand. It took them hardly twenty minutes to get the beast killed. Another hour passed, and the rendered beast was neatly packed in several conjured vessels. Harry picked out four delicate eye- and heart-strings. Then they went into the forbidden forest and picked four hairs of Thestrals as 'grey' components, four Unicorn-tail Hairs as 'light' components and a few very large branches of yew, cherry, oak and ash, all literally crawling with bowtruckles. It was an astounding thing about the forest, that all wand-wood trees were available. It was probably because of the leylines.

Once they returned to the PTIEC, each component was spread out for them to choose. One of each type was going to be used anyway, so it was a matter of deciding which component went to whom.

"Don't make any yet," Hermione said.

"Why?"

"I have made Wolfsbane for Remus. The only condition was that we both should spend a full moon night with him. I am bringing him here. Let him transform. We will pick few of his hair too."

That worked. And so, in a completely unplanned move, Remus was brought in.

* * *

TWoTMoD

* * *

"Mum, Dad? I have two friends. They know about my problem. They have a special place to transform. May I?"

"Remus!"

"Yes mum?"

"Why did you tell them?"

"I did not! They found out!" John and Mary rubbed their temples in annoyance.

"Are you sure that they will not hurt you? Are you sure that they are not acting?" John wearily asked.

"He might not be, but we won't do anything to him, Mr. Lupin, Mrs. Lupin," the letter spoke all of a sudden. Remus dropped it in surprise. "We really want to help. We are trying to be animagi for him. We could give you an oath if you want. We will not hurt or kill Remus Lupin in anyway, either as human or wolf. Trust us Moony." Unknown to the Lupins, the letter carried a very powerful compulsion charm for the Lupin family to believe them. They needed Moony back and fast. Werewolves were surprisingly immune to such things, but Remus somehow trusted both totally.

"Was it them?"

"Yes. Hadrian and Jane."

"May John and I come too?"

The letter was silent for a moment. "Sure, Ma'am. We're under Fidelius. If you can, please apparate to the Leaky Cauldron. We will collect you from there."

Fifteen minutes later, the Lupins were in the PTIEC, happy that their son had friends to spend Christmas with. They got to know the Lupins well too. John was a trader who had gone against Greyback and the werewolf had turned his son. Mary was a muggleborn and she had a small home business – a bakery. The two were very happy that their son had very good friends.

* * *

TWoTMoD

* * *

Over the week, Hermione kept giving Remus his daily dose quietly. The Confundus charm on the Lupins ensured that they never realised the dose was being sneaked in. On the 31st, Remus transformed. And to the immense surprise of his parents, Hadrian, Jane and Alastor sat with him. Remus was revelling being a docile wolf.

"Nod once if you are back, Moony."

The wolf grinned and nodded.

"Excellent! You know that I am Harry, she is Hermione and that Moody is back, don't you?"

The wolf yipped and nodded again.

"I am going to take few strands of your hair now, along with four vials of your blood. I am making blood bonded wands for the four of us."

As Hermione came out of the room with the hair and blood, John asked, "What did you do to him?"

"We had a potion that lets Remus keep control. I won't be telling anyone about it, or shits like Greyback will destroy more lives, consciously. Over the past week, we dosed Remus. It takes away the pain of the transformation too."

John had tears in his eyes. "Thank you! Thank you so much! It was a pain to see him that way!" He gave Hermione a light hug. "What's it with the hair and blood?"

"Research. I am trying to see if the potion can be keyed in such a way that Remus can transform whenever he wants – like an animagus. He won't be completely cured, of course, and if he bites a human, the person will become a werewolf, but Remus is not Fenrir. If I can isolate the magical strand that passes on to kids, and treat it so that his affliction is not passed on, he can have a family too."

Mary was sobbing in right earnest. This was the best Christmas they had ever had. They had given up all hopes for Remus. But first Dumbledore and then these two kids were doing their best to help him. She glanced at the hair and four vials. She wanted to ask the girl to see if she could help. The girl took it wrongly.

"Hadrian is making Remus a wand bonded to him."

"But blood focus..."

"...is illegal if the Ministry knows. We aren't going to tell the Ministry. Are you?"

"No, of course not. I only wanted to ask if I could help you. You could take as much blood as you need and we wouldn't protest. Nobody has healed him more than you."

"Right now we are going to keep a vial under observation. How does the lunar cycle affect the blood? I think that may be the answer we need. I am not sure. I am shooting in the dark after all."

"Don't worry, Jane. You have given us more than we could ever come to expect."

The day gave John and Mary several things to savour. Remus was in great spirits. They didn't need to see their son in pain. And he had friends. He also realised that rules were not necessary if they did not protect you.

The next day, they sat down to watch as Harry went about crafting the wands. "Remus, would you mind if I used werewolf hair for all four of us?"

"No. I think you should use it." The four chose the components and the woods. Harry mixed a vial each of their blood. Then he separated the mixed blood into four vials and distributed it to each of the four temporally displaced. A hair of their own and the components they chose all were dunked in. Hermione cast a charm (of course she had developed it herself) which locally dilated time on the four vials. Now the vials had been soaked for one complete lunar cycle – full moon to full moon.

Then they turned to the woods. Hermione went first. She found ash compatible. Picking the branch, she let her magic flow into it. Harry, with careful sweeping strokes, shaved the wood gently. Finally, at twelve and a quarter inches, Jane had a wand. This wand was now placed in a tube with the core stew. Jane then reached out with her magic again and coaxed the two to combine. When it was finally done, and it was finely done, Hermione had a wand that worked better for her than the Vine and Dragon Heartstring wand ever did. It felt a natural extension. Moony went next. Ever dependable, solid old Moony chose Oak. His was eleven and three quarter inches. Moody got cherry, thirteen inches, and Hadrian got yew, twelve inches.

"It is wonderful!" Moony said in awe. "My wand did not really seem happy with me. This one... I almost feel as if I will be performing wand-less magic!"

"It's beyond that, Lupin," growled Mad-Eye. "Give the wand to your parents or any of us. It won't work. It acts as an inhibitor. We can't perform magic with any of the others'."

"Where did you learn that?" Remus asked in wonder.

"In the space between spaces; where one is before one returns and which Mad-Eye skipped altogether, because he wasn't vigilant."

The older man's eye twitched as Remus and Hermione roared with laughter.

* * *

Up north in Scotland, Charlus and Dorea Potter received an odd package. It contained branches of ash, yew, hazel, cherry, holly, oak, birch and elder, along with five phoenix feathers, basilisk heartstrings and eye-strings, werewolf hair, thestral hair, and unicorn hair. There was also a memory and a book regarding the making of wands with blood foci. And there was a note.

It read, "For the Potter family Grimoire; from Hadrian Jameson and Jane Bennett. The human reptile is two trinkets down."

Charlus threw his head back and laughed.

Matthew and Rose found five sets of self-expanding and -updating metal and basilisk hide body armour. It was a clear indication through practical Christmas Gifts for the family: arm and protect yourselves.

James, Sirius, Peter and all the girls in Jane's dorm received wand holsters of the quick-release variety.


	5. Taking Stock

**Taking Stock**

To say that Tom Riddle, now known to the magical world as Lord Voldemort was angry was a massive understatement. It ranked right close to the statement which would say Voldemort was powerful.

No. Voldemort was beyond angry. He was pissed off. He was furious; burning with rage or anything even further that would describe him. His planned attack on Diagon Alley had been as effective as trying to inflate a torn balloon. He had hoped to make a massive statement by killing as many people as he could in this first strike. It was to herald his arrival onto the scene as the one who held the power to kill or to let live; as the one whose ideals would define magical society as he tore it asunder before recreating it, ruling over Magical Britain, then the Magical World and then the entire world forever- the immortal ruler.

His big attack on Diagon Alley, however, had been spectacularly foiled.

He had hoped to destroy as much as he could to send a message, and then stalk more purebloods with the attack as his banner, as something to show for his own. It would have been the coup de grace of his leadership. He really did not care anyway, whether the purebloods killed each other or mudbloods or halfbloods. All he cared was for him to have the riches and immortality.

But instead he had a massive failure on his hands, a complete lemon. Somehow, someone in the crowd had retaliated, and he had lost more than half of the fools he paraded around with. Barring Rasmussen, thankfully, none of the others knew about his treasures. Rasmussen only knew because he needed someone to guard the Diadem. Since he had not felt the destruction, and since so many others had also been killed, he did not fear the knowledge of the anchor leaking. What he feared was the failure that would possibly cut off his support. He needed a big show to get the wealthy purebloods onto his side. His initial plan of lying low had been severely scuppered. He had to revitalise his forces by incentives, both in numbers and in reward – however much he hated it, give the bloodthirsty someone to kill, use those deaths to bring the rich purebloods over to his side – in short, he had to do everything over again. It was an irritation. But he should have expected that. Nothing ever went without a hitch; he only had to improve.

In the meantime, there were creatures to persuade to join him; there was an army of Inferi to create; foreign witches and wizards to entice. The work of a Dark Lord was never over. It was a full-time job. People dismissed it too easily. Voldemort sighed. Sometimes it was infuriating to want to rule over a bunch of imbeciles and inbred dunderheads. Then again, if they liked being the sheep with him as the shepherd, who was he to complain, really?

* * *

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you, Moony," Harry said exasperatedly for the nth time. "Not without a pair of dragonhide gloves, anyway," he muttered under his breath. Moony was having problems adjusting with his eleven year old self. He had blubbered all over John and Mary after the full moon – in private, mind – and kept behaving more like a cat than a wolf as far as curiosity went. The Volde-soul detector had caught his fancy.

Remus stiffened and then glared at the Hand. "You are one to tell. You and that girl of yours were wearing that bloody locket for close to – how many, four months? – four months, without even a decent Occlumency barrier in place, let alone a complete defence, damn it. And you have the sheer gall to tell me to not touch it?"

"I do, because, unlike you, we are unlikely to have a violent reaction to it. Don't you remember the time at Grimmauld Place in the summer before my fifth year? You had had to be calmed that day when we were cleaning Reg's room. You only touched it once!"

Remus scrunched his face in a clear attempt at trying to remember the incident. Then his face cleared and he looked sheepish. "Ah yes. I remember. That was the only time when every one of you was scared and practically excreting razor blades when I started shouting."

"Now he remembers," cut in Hermione with a roll of her eyes. "When Ron abandoned us last time around, you were one of those we were thinking of contacting. But we have a theory – and we mean no offence – but the wolf seemed to be a sort of possession. Not the way Tommy-boy possessed Harry at the DoM, but it is an entity which is different and separate from what you are. The very nature of the Horcrux is to try and find a host. The wolf would fight back with ridiculous strength against the possession. If I were to make an analogy, it would be like the Hulk protecting Bruce Banner." At the dumbfounded looks the two boys gave her, she replied with one word, "Comics."

"Huh! Never pegged you for a comic book fan," Remus said, astonishment colouring his voice.

"I read probably every book in my House. That included the smut my mum read, and Dad's entire collection of comics – DC, Marvel, you name it. If Sirius and he had met sometime, I am sure they would have had a gala time. Both were essentially big kids." She then went on to describe several of the better known superheroes with a wide base of adulation.

Both Harry and Remus sniggered at the idea of Sirius in a bright blue costume with red underwear worn over the clothes, with a red cape and red boots to boot. He would think of it as a colossal prank.

"Do you think we should don a cowl and black skin-fitting clothes when we go out to fight those scum?" Hermione asked out of the blue.

"Batman?" asked Remus.

"Yes."

"Not a bad idea. And you would be Catwoman, wouldn't you? Please Hermione, please say you will. I quite like the idea of you in a costume."

"Shaddup!" she replied, punching him on the nose lightly.

* * *

Two days later the four trans-temporal people gathered for a planning session, finally employing the P of PTIEC, as it were, when Mad-Eye returned. The paranoid old bugger had gone off for a bout of drinks and meeting up with old friends who had died during the war, the first time around. That was the extent to which he would show affection (he had gone out of his way to meet them, hadn't he?).

The first order of business was taking-stock of all that had been accomplished. Hadrian and Jane had gone about explaining how they had taken two pieces of the dark idiot's soul out of the consideration. They then explained the working of the Volde-soul detector. Here Mad-Eye had quite a lot to say.

"What have you done to ensure the safety of that thing?"

"Eh?" Hadrian was very eloquent.

"You blithering idiot, what steps have you taken to ensure the safety of that thing?"

"What for?" asked Jane. "It has always been with us for the entire period of time since its creation!"

"Do you mean to take it to Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," Hadrian scoffed, and then realised what Mad-Eye was talking about. "The House is under a Fidelius. We have a blood keyed room in this place Mad-Eye. The day we were making the wands, Jane keyed the set-up to be opened if and only if all four of us are present – it needs our blood...it is a bit like Gringotts' vault wards."

"Do you have blood?"

"I may not be exactly human, but I need to have a physical form, you know..."

"I see. So that is done. What am I supposed to do while you three are in school?" Mad-Eye asked with a growl before stopping short and groaning. "Oh bloody blazes!" he muttered. "I am taking on a Dark Lord with school kids for company and I don't even have me special eye!"

Remus bristled at that. "I'll have you know that I was your best Order agent in the future..." he started before trailing off.

"So you realised just now how mixed-up everything is, didn't you, Lupin?" said Mad-Eye snidely.

"Now, now, boys," Jane cut in Mad-Eye glared at her. It was ineffectual. The electric blue magical eye was scary by itself. The glare with two normal eyes just did not cut it. "Mad-Eye, none of us – except you – are likely to be inducted into the Order. And none of us can get away from school easily. Hadrian and I can, but not Remus. We don't know how long Volde-fool is going to remain quiet. We need intelligence. Interfering with the first attack and taking out two of his trinkets has already altered the timeline so much that what we know is nothing better than a study of tactics, and even that may change. We need to find out what he is doing. We need to know what the Order ends up doing – particularly raids and such. We can invisibly interfere."

"If you give me the detector, I could find a trinket myself," Mad-Eye protested.

"No. Before we brought you around when you came back to now, we tested the detector around the captured DEs' Dark Marks. They reacted violently. We don't know who Voldemort has told about his trinkets, nor do we know what he has told them about said trinkets. And you need to be covert. Because of your position and fame as an Auror, you are a target already. Imagine the situation if the Aurors have been infiltrated. You will be compromised. We can't have that."

"That makes sense," Mad-Eye grudgingly conceded.

Remus, who had been hitherto silent, provided an option. We know how Dumbledore collected all sorts of memories from people regarding what he thought the trinkets would be. Why he did not share those things with us, we will never know. But if you can trace the path that Tom Riddle took post Hogwarts during the time till he came back to Hogwarts for the DADA job, we will have better leads to follow during the summers. We know for sure that he went to Albania – for as Harry told us, he retrieved the Diadem from there. How did he get there in the first place?"

"A covert operation, then," he surmised. This was something he could do.

"The other thing to do would be telling us about the people who have gone over to the other side. As long as they don't go into fights, we will not seek them out...immediately. But it will be something to remember if we come up against them."

"I could always bring you lot up to speed with casting and duelling."

"When and where?" asked Remus. "We shall be in classes. We can hardly bunk them, can we?"

"We can always bunk Binns," Jane pointed out reasonably.

"All joking aside, that's a swell idea Mad-Eye. The Chamber is big enough, and you could come in from under the Shrieking Shack or through Honeydukes. We'll learn whenever you'll be free to teach us. Damn," he muttered. "I never thought of learning from the real Mad-Eye!"

"Greenhorn," chided Mad-Eye. Then he glanced at the file in Harry's hands which was the record of every action taken till then. "At least I won't need to teach you how to file reports. You are suited for a desk job, newbie," he growled with the horrible, trademark Mad-Eye grin.

"Don't forget we got you here, Mad-Eye," Jane retorted.

"Doesn't change the fact that you are greenhorns," Mad-eye persisted. "What are you lot going to do?"

"We are going after the DE kids. Lucius is in the fifth year right now. Narcissa is in the third. I won't feel much remorse if Harry Potter and Hermione Granger never had a classmate by the name Draco Malfoy. If Narcissa is salvageable, we might help her. Barring Sirius, Regulus and Andromeda, we don't need to bother with the others of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. We have marked several potential DEs – those that we knew of in the original timeline, and those we think might go down that way. We can't do anything to them unless they try to go near Voldemort. And as much as I would like to hit them all with a compulsion to believe that everyone is equal, it just wouldn't do. Some of them will have to be taken out, but no physical action can be taken while they are at Hogwarts. The BOG will take action against Dumbledore and we can't have that right now. So passive scanning, weekend searches for Greyback and his ilk, and participation in any Anti-V raids and retaliations is the best we can do till June."

"With the blow you have dealt him by taking out half his attack force, even you will have to lie low," Mad-Eye concurred in response. "What you plan to do will cut-off his up and coming support base. Good."

"Thanks Mad-Eye. Do you need any reference material for your part?"

"I do. But I don't think you can help. I wish I could coax Albus to part with those memories you spoke of," Mad-Eye lamented.

"Why? I remember them perfectly. You could just as well take them from me..."

"I've known Albus since Merlin was in his nappies, laddie. He wouldn't have shown you everything...ever. Idiotic bugger would've tried to hide as much information as possible. You told me about the Gaunt Ring. Morfin Gaunt died in 1948, in jail. Albus suspected that then. He had Morfin's memory. How did that come about? What was he doing allowing Riddle to even live up to 1971?" Hadrian, Remus and Jane looked at Mad-Eye in unfeigned, undisguised shock. Mad-Eye merely chuckled. "Mind you, he wouldn't have given you wrong information – just incomplete. So at the point in time when he told you about the trinkets, he would not give you a wrong number of the intentionally made trinkets, but he also did not give you the complete information about the unintentional one."

The three eleven year-olds just gaped at Mad-Eye even more, till finally Jane spoke, "That actually makes sense. Hokey, Hepzibah Smith's house-elf was executed in 1946. If he had the elf's memory since 1946, what was he doing with it? How did he get an elf's memory, anyway? They are physiologically unable to give any information involving their masters!"

"Not if the Masters are dead, lass," corrected Mad-Eye.

Remus and Hadrian were still in shock. "You mean," Hadrian croaked out at last, "that Dumbledore **_allowed_** Voldemort to rise?"

"Allowed? No. Ignored till it was too late? Yes. Albus might have kept tabs on Riddle, if only to substantiate his suspicion that the boy was a bad egg. It might not have meant anything beyond Riddle committing murder till you gave him the diary. Damn! I had asked him about it, and the old goat-buggerer avoided my questions like a rash! Anyway, as I was saying, he mightn't have thought about the 'H's until then. If I am not wrong, he might have even wanted to start the search in the backdrop of the Tri-Wizard, with me overseeing matters in his stead. Not that that idea turned out well. The next year the Ministry was blocking every step, every eyebrow twitch that Albus made. Albus may have, all along, planned to eliminate the trinkets and then give you the terrible knowledge of what he wanted you to do. Again, he could have asked a Curse-Breaker, or the Healers specialising in active and passive possession. But that's Albus for you. The end result was that he did not give you enough information even when he was faced with certain death. Albus could play strip-poker with every politician in the world and manage to be the only one with his dignity intact."

Remus was becoming more and more indignant and agitated on Harry's behalf. "I thought Albus cared for Harry."

"He might have, Lupin, but Albus cared for the necessary ends – the complete destruction of Voldemort much more. But he was blinded by it."

"But why?" asked Remus in shock and bewilderment. He was being forced to undergo a massive change of opinion, and he didn't like it one bit. He was prepared to hate Snivellus, he had lots of practice doing that, but Albus was a bastion of trust for him.

"The why is simple – lack of trust. Albus has been fighting for so long, that he is just as untrusting," ("Paranoid," corrected Jane), "as I am. He is required to hide it. My excessive vigilance – yes I know it is excessive – is for a reason. When people here about me, they eschew any normally employed methods of hoodwinking, assassination and the like. People tend to forget that vigilance is not my only asset. I am also fairly knowledgeable – through experience, mind – regarding magical theory. My fanatical observance of vigilance masks that, making people lax.

"Albus is a benevolent schoolteacher moonlighting in the business of fighting the dark arts. I am not saying that it was so. This is pure conjecture on my part. He might have recognised the signs of the scar that very night in 1981, but not necessarily as anything more than Dark Magic residue. You know how difficult it is to detect these things, because the spells treat these things like viruses; Horcruxes aren't living till they have a host, and if you were a host, you were yourself, first and foremost. Now he has two warring instincts – care for the orphaned baby, protecting him from any followers of the Dark Idiot. The second part leads to another conclusion – What if the curse-breaker or the healer he asks for help turns out to be a minion of the idiot? What if that is not the case, but it comes up in a professional discussion and someone connects the dots and resurrects YKW years before people are ready? He did care for you in a way, but his perceived duty to the magical world at large always took precedence.

"But why then did he hide everything from you? Simple; he feared YKW might intercept that information. He was already using the scar to manipulate you. This information would have turned the war against us completely. That said though, I am willing to state this unequivocally. Albus might have told Severus to get the scar checked, such that with the last vestige gone, even if YKW had remained alive, with adequate support, you could have enforced secrecy. A disembodied soul wouldn't have lasted long, and YKW would not have had strength to do anything anyway." That explanation had started to make a little sense. "Snape would have modified the memories as a last service for his master," Mad-Eye spat bitterly.

Finally, Hadrian and Jane understood how Albus Dumbledore worked, why he had left them practically floundering on their own, and also learnt that as much as he was secretive, he was not cruel.

"Why are you telling us this, Mad-Eye?"

"He is Albus."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, flummoxed.

A crease lit up on Mad-Eye's forehead. "You two have a clear objective – take out YKW, save as many people as you can, get you parents together. But you are forgetting one key fact. Nothing is ever straightforward. People liken war to chess. It is not. Chess has rules, and it rarely throws up surprises. Difficult situations yes, but it rarely has surprises. You two want to operate as vigilantes parallel with Albus. He is not a complete fool. He will realise that something is up, and may even catch on to you. What I just told you constituted a mini-lesson about understanding how the man works. If you understand that, you will be better equipped to deal with him, not if but when the time comes. By virtue of Albus being who he is, sooner rather than later, some interaction between you will occur. I want you prepared."

All three eleven-year-olds could understand the truth of Alastor's words. It would only be prudent to be prepared for every eventuality, including the meddling of Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

The day before they were to leave for Hogwarts, Remus came over to the flat where he would be living till it was time to leave. They had concrete plans regarding the fight. But there was so much that could go wrong at Hogwarts, which was where they needed Remus the most, freeing them up for the 'extracurricular activities'. That meant they had to prepare Remus for the different situation that existed.

Firstly, it was not the same Moony that had left Hogwarts. It was going to be difficult for him to not strangle Peter, to not cling to Lily and James in a terrifically strong (he **_was_** a bloody lycanthrope!) hug and to not punch Sirius' face inside out for dicking about with Bellatrix when he could have just stunned the bitch. He would also have to be restrained from Snivellus 'Slimeball' Snake. It just wouldn't do if Remus uppercutted him into orbit. At least he had spent some time with Lily, James and Sirius. It would be just too difficult to explain a seemingly unprovoked attack on Snivellus. That, and Hadrian and Jane had the **_wonderful_** job of 'saving' the greasy haired git. So at the cost of having to petrify the poor man in a child's body, the two had to condition him to accept the idea "Do not trouble Severus Snape or cross him; just ignore him" at a subconscious level. Not for the first time, Harry thanked whatever was left of his brains for not choosing James or Sirius instead of Remus. Both would have been extremely trustworthy helping hands in that they would do whatever it took to help him, but they could not be trusted to not bollix things up in a fit of anger – rational or otherwise. By general rule, they would have run amok with the knowledge, and would have found ways to change things beyond repair without meaning to.

Remus being around also freed them up from – at the point of time – a tertiary goal. For all that it would matter, both Lily and James were mentally and physically first years, something that Hadrian, Jane and Remus were not.

Remus knew what James had finally become when Lily and he got together. A part of the reason that James was overly arrogant (yes he was; he just wasn't the villain Slimeball Snake had portrayed him to be) was because he **_was_** a pampered little prince, an only child. The James, as he was now, loved his siblings and was immensely protective of them, as they had learnt while rummaging through his mind. It was a much, much larger change than any, and he would be a different animal compared to even the James that Lily would eventually marry. That had a downside also. James had filled the absence of siblings by the Marauders. Would he now consider them a band of brothers, and risk the difficult animagus transformation for a friend?

Lily was similarly a different person. Petunia was going to be the only one who'd be different – among the children. Dennis, as a magical child, was always going to be closer to his sister eventually. (As much as he did not like being so cold minded, Dennis was the contingency, should they fail. The 'Harry' part had no wish to ever live with Petunia again. The Hadrian part did not care for that. He had to succeed. There was no other option.) This meant that this Lily had a very good reason to stay closer to her family. This Lily also had had her eyes opened to the real nature of Snivellus very early. Both Hadrian and Jane had seen to that. She was going to undergo a major change in her outlook and beliefs. And as that changed, she would change as a person also.

Remus was also assigned a new task. The people to save – ranging from Regulus and Barty Jr. to any of the younger ones that would show inclination towards indoctrination could be dealt with by reverse indoctrination (or suggestions, as they preferred it) by Hadrian and Jane. But the reason why several of the younger generation chose to become DEs, either before the end of the first war, or after Voldemort's resurrection was because of familial conditioning. Remus always came across as an intellectually inclined person and he had the air of an elder brother/ mentor/ guide/ trusted confidant who wouldn't be judgemental. His job would then be to take these lost kids – for that was what they would essentially be, once the two Hands had dealt with them insidiously – under his wing and to help them form their own opinion, to look out for them and to steer them away from their path completely. If it had been police terminology, the Hands would be the bad cops, while Remus would be the good one. He would, for all practical purposes, be the counsellor. Demarcating the new roles that they would all have to play after taking stock of the situation as it would now be was extremely important. The mission's success depended on it.

The next point of importance was setting up a command centre. By all means this was something from a movie or TV Show that Hermione had once watched. Jane had created a bunch of special sensory/ super-sensory spells that acted as a drones, ward-analysers, lookouts, and spotters. Among the four, only Remus was never to participate directly in raids till he was of age. So he was their coordinator. With the communication spells that Hadrian and Jane had already used in battles, they had a rough plan of action. Hadrian had gone one step further and recreated the DA Galleons Hermione had created, and tied it into Jane's spells and the communication mirror kind of thing at the other end. As a result Remus had a view of everything on the collapsible transceiver he now was the proud owner of. He also had the activation command controls for Portkeys in dire situations like injuries. Together, that meant that Remus was, for all intents and purposes, their 'eye in the sky'.

* * *

"Moony?"

"Hmm?" asked Remus, poring through a book regarding the applications of the Protean Charm.

"I – We have been meaning to ask you this for quite some time, but never found the opportunity." Remus looked up from the book he was reading and faced Jane, who was seated to Hadrian's right, clutching onto his arm, clearly for support. Their faces held fear, sadness and sorrow, something that Remus could not understand. "And we were also unsure how to approach you about it."

"What is it Janie?"

"What...what is going to happen to mine and Harry's godson, Remus? What is going to happen to Teddy?"

 _"_ _I should have expected that,"_ Remus thought warmly. _"I made the right choice."_ He closed the book and kept it aside with a bookmark in place, and faced his nephew and niece in all ways that mattered.

"When you asked for the boon from the One, what was it that you were thinking, Harry?"

If Hadrian found the question odd, he did not show it. "Well I was thinking that if I succeeded in my mission, with you and Mad-Eye, then I would be born as Harry Potter properly, and would be raised as a Marauder, with Darrene as the Aunt and Eldric, Dennis, and you, Sirius and even Peter as Uncles, and all my grandparents being there, happy as a very large extended family. And then I would have a normal life in Hogwarts, and chase after Hermione once I became smitten. Whenever you'd get married to Tonks, you and Mum and Dad and all the others would tell me what I had done, and you'd name me Teddy's godfather." As he saw the efforts Jane and Remus had to expend towards controlling their laughter, he raised his hand and said sullenly, "I know that is foolish..."

"Never saw you as one to adhere to Molly Weasley's one big happy family ideal, cub," Remus said with a completely straight face.

"Moony!" Harry could only whine in response. The two sniggering companions could no longer control their mirth and burst out laughing. As much as it was foolish, it had certainly lightened the mood.

Harry looked at the two in mounting indignation, before growling out, "Laugh it up, fuzzball!" That it applied both, to Hermione's bushy hair and to the 'Moony' part of Remus, was purely incidental.

When they had calmed down adequately, Remus switched to his Professor-mode. "Do you understand the nature of souls, Harry?"

"I am not sure. The only reference to that is what I know about dementors and Horcruxes."

Remus shook his head. "That is like the horror stories regarding magic that the muggles know. A soul," he explained, "is basically like play dough. It just is. It has a bit of sentience and understanding to it, but otherwise, it just is. Once the soul joins up with the body, it gets an identity. The stimuli to this identity shape the soul into a person. The parents shape the play dough the most. Are you with me?"

Hadrian and Jane nodded.

"So Teddy was basically play dough. Now, should I survive the war – for the One doesn't bother himself with any mistakes we make, as long as our mistakes don't go unpunished, so to speak – I will get some play dough to shape. It may or may not be with Dora. I don't know whether you know anything about controls, but The One acts as a controller. As long as there aren't significant deviations from the required output, The One doesn't react. Teddy, Dora and I were all insignificant deviations."

Remus could see that Harry was about to protest, so he elaborated, "You were the Hand, originally also – that is why there was the prophecy. Your death instead of Tom's was the disastrously wrong output, so to speak. Neither of Teddy, Dora and I were that. _We_ weren't insignificant as people, but as contributors to the war, over all. _We_ weren't the objects of the prophecy, is what I am trying to say."

"Ok," Harry replied, slightly mollified.

"The second thing that you have to understand is that my real consciousness of the eleven-year-old is developing much in the same way that a person learns from the experiences of another. Much like troops are called back when the wars come to an end in the muggle world, my consciousness will be called back too. All that will remain will be the older version of Remus Lupin, the currently eleven-year-old boy."

"So you will die?"

"No. I will...assimilate, I guess, is the best word. I will assimilate into my correct consciousness, without the baggage of the useless memories of what could have been the future – the dystopian one." He saw that Harry comprehended what he was being told, so Remus pressed in, "I will be cleansed in a way, much like you."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"So now combine the two facts. I will be a new person in a way. And Teddy was play dough. What will happen then?"

"Remus Lupin might end up with a new soul, a new child to shape. That child may or may not be Teddy, but it won't matter technically, because neither you nor we will remember him," Hermione answered. Then she grimaced. "Do you know how clinical and cruel that sounds?"

"I know. I will miss him too, Hermione. He was my son, after all. But you have to understand this. Our missing him matters only because we either knew him or knew of him. Since we will cease to be as we were then, we will be with him again. To all intents and purposes, there will be a new version of all three of us, free from all Dark Lord Troubles that will know each other, and share new memories."

They sat in a sombre silence for a minute, before Harry provided the comic relief unwittingly, again.

"How am I going to end up as Harry Potter and she as Hermione Granger again, then?" asked Hadrian, genuinely puzzled.

Remus had a strange glint in his eye as he answered, "You specifically asked for that, you great **_lump!_** "

Jane burst out into laughter again, while Remus smirked and Hadrian groaned.

* * *

The New Year had started on a great note for Dolores Umbridge. She had been promoted in the Department of International Magical Co-operation. She had also been given quite a few people as assistants, a few of whom, she was sure, weren't of the proper breeding. Well, she had the reins of things now. She would weed them out. It had to be her who would cleanse the magical world of those abominations. She was broken out of her musings by the alerts that told her about uninvited guests. She turned to face a boy with a decidedly muggle face.

All of a sudden, she felt a great calm pass over her. Nothing else mattered. A very great voice, one that she felt she could trust asked her to jump into the trunk that had magically appeared before her. She saw no reason to disagree. She jumped, and knew no more.

"F-H, Alpha-Blue, Watching Wolf, 'Mission Pest-Control/1' is a success. Repeat. 'Mission Pest-Control/1' is a success. Over and out."


	6. Slugs and Altered Paths

**Slugs and Altered Paths**

"Moony, are you ready?"

"As ready as I can be, cub," replied Remus.

"Are you really sure about this Harry? We had put him onto the 'to eliminate' list, after all."

"I am absolutely sure, Hermione. Think about it. While your potion skills are much more than sufficient and excellent, why do you want to be tied up in that? We can dispose him off afterwards anyway. We have got so much blackmail material on him that he could be buried under that alone. At least, as of now, he will be useful. Whatever else he may be, he still is an expert potioneer. He is a useful resource. I changed my mind after Mad-Eye told us to convert Snivelly into a Potions-savant. We need someone, and that can't be Snivellus."

"But what if he finds some wriggle-room?"

"I trust you two completely. If between you, you have come up with a set of demands that you believe are unassailable, then that is good for me. If it pleases you, we could, of course, put him under the Imperius. Mine are strong – I tried one on Bellatrix. She couldn't break it at all, and I kept it up for an entire week."

"WHAT?" Remus chastised in a harsh whisper.

Hermione only rolled her eyes. "Did you perform surgical memory erasure?"

Harry looked at her with reproachful eyes. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't? Would I really forget something **_that_** important?"

Hermione smiled sweetly at him before patting his cheek in mock-condescension. "Just checking, dear," she said.

"It's always like that with you. Always the surprise," Harry groused back.

"If you two are quite done, we have got a mission to accomplish," Remus interrupted with an amused glance at the pair of them. The cub and his girl always clicked together, Remus remembered.

"Hey! Getting jealous, are we?"

"You bet I am. My wife won't be born for another two years!"

Harry and Hermione only snickered in response.

The three were moving about disillusioned, and were stunning every portrait, Miss Melissa (Filch's cat), the Prewett twins, two suits of armour and then Filch (who had started off on the quest for the missing Miss Melissa) on their way to the dungeons.

Finally they reached Slughorn's Chambers. It was very necessary for them to be cautious. Just as the man had several well-wishers due to the connections he tenaciously forged and the people he connected to others, he also had disgruntled students willing to take him down on a more permanent basis for being passed over just because of their inferior breeding (in some cases) or because they had nothing to offer. This man was also the person who told Voldemort a thing or two about his trinkets. What better way to punish him than to make him subservient to their cause forcibly, even under the threat of the most painful death that either of the three could administer?

They set to work on taking down the wards on his doors. There were several monitoring-and-alert wards. They were also tied into each other so that anyone wishing to unravel them would have to be extremely meticulous and precise, for otherwise, brute-forcing or poor technique would alert the old bastard about the attack on his chambers. There was another set of wards lying underneath them that would trap an attacker attempting to get in. To be fair, it was not only for his safety, but also for preventing unauthorised entry into and access to his personal laboratory within the chambers where he conducted experiments regarding modifications and inventions, and also the exotic ingredients he stored there, that the wards were necessary.

It took an hour of painstaking efforts, several calculations, ten 'stunning' breaks and a severe temptation to blast the ruddy door off its hinges before they gained entry.

"Bloody old bastard!" swore Remus. "One would think he has the answers to all the world's problems locked in there!"

"No; just the answers to where and how he will find his next jar of crystallised pineapple..." Jane muttered. The old man was really irritating. And he had those calculative eyes and evaluative nature that almost made one feel he was judging one's worth and wondering what price he could get for the person.

Harry barged in. As much as The One had tried to drill the importance of caution into His Hand, but it was just too ingrained in him. The door had frustrated him a bit. A stunner flew in his direction that he dodged.

"And that," Jane scolded, after disabling the timed, repeating, intruder alarm-triggered trap, "is why you are such a stupid Gryffindor!"

Hand immediately felt sheepish. With the return of Moony, he had dropped his guard around them and was becoming a bit too cocky. "Sorry."

"We will be having a talk soon, cub," Remus said curtly. He too had observed the changes in Harry – he was no longer behaving as The Hand should. While there was no danger of the cub being killed, Remus could see that it could quickly become dangerous for the mission.

"Yes sir. If I may say so, in my defence, we are breaking into a Teacher's quarters, and time is of essence. Rushing in without tactical information was wrong, but in this situation it got the work done."

Remus held his stare, and then nodded curtly.

After taking down three more traps (one would have sprayed them with the aerosol-compatible form of the Shrinking solution, another would have emitted poisonous fumes without a password and the third would send a blast of flames) which made Harry wonder whether Slughorn was in possession of a Horcrux, or had made one himself, they entered Slughorn's chambers. The rotund man was sleeping, looking just like a walrus, his moustache quivering. After it was verified that the...figure...on the bed was Slughorn and not a decoy, they felled him with three powerful stunners. As much as they wanted to, the three decided not to shrink him. He was disillusioned and put on a conjured cart. It still took all three of them to push the cart. Eventually, after fifteen minutes, three casts of 'Glisseo' they reached Myrtle's bathroom and into the Chamber of Secrets, their base of operations.

Since Remus had not participated in any 'active' confrontation, he was going to go after Slughorn. But first they needed every bit of information that could be extracted from him.

While researching methods of interrogation, Hadrian had come across a reference which cited that any spell cast in Parseltongue or any other **_magical_** language, was always more powerful. Magical languages couldn't be replicated by non-magical means, and the larynx, brain and all other parts of the speech process had to draw from the very magical core of the speaker. That was exactly how Voldemort had been sending the visions to Harry, even without the knowledge of soul-shard. Remus had volunteered to be the test subject. Even though the wolf had been unforgiving in shredding Harry's attack, he had still been able to glean more than just the surface thoughts. While they never attempted that again, it was good enough. Another important aspect of performing the spell this way was that the spell brute-forced its way through memory modifications also.

That was exactly what they did to Slughorn. They revived him, and then silenced and petrified him. Though it took quite some power, the Legillimens spell cast in Parseltongue was extremely effective. Slughorn's shields were battered and the man was actually groaning in pain, but Hadrian relentlessly extracted every bit of information from the man's mind and stored it into his own. It was an advanced use of the mind arts, but it wasn't a giant leap from the normal Legillimency. All it took was for the caster to have very good Occlumency or an eidetic memory.

Hadrian was drawing harsh breaths when he finally retreated from the massive man's minute mind. It took both of them about the same time to recover from the massive attack.

"Harry?" Remus was a bit worried now. Harry was looking murderous. And as much as Remus agreed with Harry and Hermione regarding this abominable man, at the moment he was much more useful alive than dead.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS, JAMESON?" Slughorn shouted. "I WILL HAVE YOU EXPELLED FOR THIS!"

Harry took one look at the man, and then before anyone could react, socked him in the face, once, twice, thrice, breaking Slughorn's jaw in the process.

Even though his voice was controlled, his every syllable shook with fury and the promise of violence. "You fucking beast! You can attempt to expel me if you leave this place alive!" he snarled.

Another uppercut knocked the man out again. Harry then promptly walked away, sat down in the lotus position and meditated his anger away.

"What is the matter?"Jane demanded.

"This...man has done more than anyone else to perpetuate the very idea of blood purity, but that is not the worst of it. We knew that he told Tom about the Horcruxes. What we didn't know is that this beast looked on from his hiding place as Tom performed the ritual after killing Myrtle, AND HE BLOODY WELL NEVER TOLD ANYONE ABOUT IT! HE KNEW AND LET THINGS HAPPEN!"

Remus' and Jane's faces hardened immediately. They revived the man, _again_.

With the throbbing pain in his broken jaw, and the mien of pure hatred on the faces of his students, Slughorn was cowed immensely, never mind that the students in question were mere eleven-year-olds. Remus, with all his lycanthrope strength, wanted to throttle the man. He was responsible for the war. He was responsible for so many of his friends dying. He was responsible for the near destruction of the magical and probably the entire world. Remus first healed the jaw, and then punched the man in his massive gut, eliciting a scream of pain.

"MR. LUPIN!" screamed Slughorn. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Jane and Remus had no compunction however. They already knew that magic and the Unforgivables couldn't be traced in Salazar's chamber because of the confrontation between the Diary and Harry. "CRUCIO!" they cursed together.

For a man with no remorse at being responsible for the pain of so many, Slughorn had a ridiculously low pain threshold. He screamed and screamed and screamed. It just seemed to go on and on. Jane let him catch his breath, before torturing him again.

When they were finally done, they cast several numbing charms on Slughorn and plied him with pain potions and a powerful nerve repairing potion that she and Hadrian had invented for Moony. While it wasn't widely known, the pain of that transformation was just as bad, or probably worse, than the Cruciatus.

"Why?" Slughorn asked, hoarsely and plaintively.

"You have some nerve to ask that, shiteball," Jane spat – nearly literally – into his face. "You have created a monster and shirked the responsibility. Now you shall burn in hell for your sins."

Hermione, and then Jane, had acquired a taste for the dramatics ever since her torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. She could out-gloat and out-rant the best of them. She had also lost any wish to control her language in less than polite company.

Slughorn blanched. In any other situation, he wouldn't have really been bothered. But these first-years had dragged him to a place related to Slytherin and then had proceeded to torture him there. He had the possession of his senses, enough to realise that they could and would kill him if it came to that. He still couldn't fathom how they knew about Tom. He behaved in the exact manner that they wanted him to.

He started pleading for mercy.

"Please, spare me," he rasped.

"Why? You are a dastardly excuse for a human being. You don't even have anything to offer in exchange for your life."

"I will do anything!"

"And what possibly would we need from you?"

"I know how to make a Horcrux! I will show you!"

Jane, Remus and Hadrian looked at the pitiful excuse of a human being with unadulterated disgust.

"That just sealed your fate, slug. Who would you prefer killing you?"

"Please! Please spare me! I'll do anything!"

"What do you think, Remus? We do have basilisk venom. We could dilute it and nobody would know..."

"Absolutely, Janie," agreed Remus.

"PLEASE!" Slughorn howled.

Jane shot him a filthy look, and then put him under the Cruciatus again for a very short spell. "Shut up shiteball!"

"Now, now, Janie," placated Hadrian. "There must be something that he can do for us. The question is how to coerce him to do it."

"The Imperius Curse?" asked Jane innocently. "No. I want him knowing that he is and forever will be in danger." She pretended to think for a few moments and then snapped her fingers. "I know! Sluggy will give us an Unbreakable Vow!" The last was said in the same sing-song voice that Bellatrix employed.

Slughorn's face went even paler. He was pretty sure that this young witch was insane.

Hadrian turned to Slughorn. "Will you do it, Sluggy? Will you give us an Unbreakable Vow on our terms? You don't get to ask for anything in return..."

Slughorn couldn't really accept that. He was about to protest when Remus whipped out his blood-wand and put him under the Cruciatus again.

"I w-will d-do it-t!" he stuttered.

"Oh goody!" exclaimed Hadrian. "Look Janie, Sluggy knows when he is being stepped on and squished! On your knees, Sluggy!" he commanded. Remus and Jane grimaced at the way he said it.

The Vow was very clear. Sluggy would give them the names of all those who were in Riddle's clique; he would help them establish contact with those who served Tom Riddle and any of his aliases, and also keep an eye on his House and steer them away from Tom Riddle and his aliases; he would renounce blood purity beliefs privately; he would destroy any Horcruxes that he may have created and again give the names of any others who he knew or suspected to have a Horcrux (they already knew that the man was an excellent liar. It wouldn't do for them to go lax because they believed his grovelling and neglected taking proper precautions); he would tell them everything he knew about Horcruxes; he would brew potions for them, on demand, correctly and without question; he would keep their identities as well as Moony's Mooniness (Lycanthropy) secret and would always keep anything said around him secret; he would correctly prepare the Wolfsbane Potion each month for Remus, and then voluntarily have the memory wiped for the other three weeks; and that he would never hurt anyone in any manner – physical, mental, directly, indirectly or through influenced intermediaries.

It was a major victory within Hogwarts for them. It was important to subjugate Slughorn. He was the Head of Slytherin. Now they had complete access to that House.

* * *

The two months since the Christmas break were dull, insipid and boring. Absolutely nothing happened. They knew why that was so. In the previous iteration of the year 1972, Riddle had destroyed the very large bookshop Spellbound that sold books, tomes, scrolls and rare Grimoires of dead family lines (this was twice as large as the shop that came in its place – Flourish and Blotts), just before the students returned to Hogwarts. Just as a lot of old knowledge was lost, there was also the loss of no less than a hundred and thirteen lives. It was sick, but effective in a very twisted way.

That audacity to and success of the attack, and the remorseless culling of humans was down to the fact that his first attack had been tremendously successful. Voldemort had lain low for a while, gathering followers by impressing them with magic tricks, snake-talk, the massive attack on Diagon Alley and show of strength with twenty-eight DEs and the like, before attacking Spellbound to remind people that he was around. Thereafter he had increased the frequency steadily, starting the full-scale war by the first of September. It was something to note – Tom was very punctual and followed the school schedule piously. He had always ensured that he met Harry in the last days of school in the previous future also. It would never be said that Tom had no redeeming qualities at all.

Were the war to be likened to Chess, The Hands of the One and their allies were the Black, having to counter the moves Riddle would make. And register a very powerful counter they had. With no new leads regarding the trinkets of Riddle, no new attacks, and seemingly no move at all being made by Voldemort, the war had come to a halt when it shouldn't have. A seemingly interminable wait for Riddle to make his move seemed to be the only thing on the horizon. The fact that the White Side did not know the Black side existed, formally, didn't help matters much either.

No soldier ever likes war. If one were to be embroiled in a war, it is always a soldier's wish that the war ends quickly, on his side's terms of course. The unofficial ceasefire is always worse than an actual confrontation, because it can be openly violated and there is not much that anyone can do about it except to retaliate. While initially it can be a slight relief, beyond a point it becomes the cause of stress as the peace is tenuous at best. It causes one to see shadows where there aren't. The calm starts seeming like the harbinger of a terrible storm. That was the position that The Potters, Evanses, Mad-Eye, Remus, Jane and Hadrian found themselves in. Letters and other lines of communication were in steady use, but there was not much information at all that could be exchanged.

This was an unfortunate and uncomfortable stalemate. A physicist would have likened the situation to a state of unstable equilibrium, a pebble precariously balanced on the tip of a sword. And such a stalemate quickly deteriorated moral among the fighters.

So all in all, the trans-temporals and their allies were becoming very fidgety.

* * *

The greatest fear they had was the regarding the trinkets. Since there had been no retaliation the first time around, Voldemort had followed his own timetable while creating them. This time, he was bound to feel insecure because of the failed first attack. He could make an unanticipated move regarding the Horcruxes. The One had told his Hands about the book which contained complete information regarding the ritual. It had taken them stomachs of diamonds and veins of steel to be able to read that book. Yet it was not full of evil magic. No. It just detailed soul magics objectively.

There were very positive soul magics also – like those that tied the soul of the caster to a dwelling, the caster's magic protecting it forever. Unlike the Horcrux, this...haunting, for lack of a better word, anchored the protections of the dwelling into the sacrificed soul of the caster. Ancient military strongholds often used the same to protect the places during a siege. The magical warriors always performed the ritual first, and then, if they were killed, they stayed on to protect their posts. Then there were the ways to save a dying loved one by tying the magic – not the soul – but magic of a willing volunteer to the one on the deathbed which was grey, at best. It was interesting to note that each kind of soul magic required a sacrifice of some sort. The 'Light' Magics were based on voluntary sacrifices, while the Dark ones required murder.

Coming back to the Horcrux, the book had pointed out that the soul made a person what he or she was. A soul **_was_** the person, while the body was just a case which could be destroyed without any harm to the soul. It was why making a Horcrux was heinous. It stripped away part of what **_made_** the person. It caused pain which drove the creator of the anchor to insanity. It made one lesser than the person one was...ordained to be.

That said though, there was also ample matter regarding the making of multiple anchors. Each new anchor stripped off more of the person, because each anchor had to be equal in all aspects. So each time, the soul needed that much more time to recuperate. After the first, one had to wait at least for twelve moon cycles (one Lunar year), thirty three after the second, eighty nine after the third, and so on. It was interesting to note that the numbers were related by the irrational number 'e'. It gave the natural base a new meaning altogether.

Riddle had created the first one sometime in early 1943. That meant he had to wait till at least 1946 to create the next, then another in 1953 or 1954, then another in 1973 or '74 and so on. He had created the ring-anchor in mid-1945. Obviously his soul hadn't recuperated fully, and that had made it unstable. So even if he might have waited until several years thereafter to create the diadem-anchor, the damage was already done. And Riddle was too greedy and too impatient to wait for three years, and then another seven and a bit, to create what he must have considered his masterpieces.

This was not only bad for Riddle, but also for the time-displaced quartet. There was a reason why the Horcruxes had to be protected. If two or more Horcruxes were fused back together, it created a freak of magic. The resulting bit of soul would go back to the correct order of nature, and therefore would be a polar opposite of the soul that it was a part of. If – a very big if – the Horcrux ritual was performed correctly in the first place, the re-assembling of the soul would create the paradox. This new soul, if allowed to possess another, a soulless husk of an executed prisoner, for example, would have been an excellent asset against Voldemort. With a fudged ritual, there was very little hope that this escape route could be utilised.

Even the research that ran parallel to their war efforts was not yielding positive results. So as far as saving people or fighting the war went, the only thing of note that they accomplished was the Subjugation of Slughorn.

* * *

It was not to say, however, that there was nothing going on at all. There were other things to do. The Nerve-Repairing potion had been incorporated into the Wolfsbane Potion, which made the transformation that much easier for Remus. This meant that even **_while_** he **_was transforming_** , Remus could keep his own consciousness, instead of having it overridden by that of The Wolf. In essence, Remus became a Full-Moon triggered Wolf Animagus who could stand on his hind legs in the animal form. Of course, that was only because the afflicted person was Remus. Greyback would have taken the opportunity to infect the whole world if he could.

Jane wanted to exercise her skills in the Mind Arts, and had taken Snape to task after she had befriended him. Hadrian's first assault had done quite the number on him. Hadrian hadn't removed the curses on Snape. To be fair, they would work if and only if Snape called anyone a mudblood, either in person or in private. He did use the vile term for quite a few people. Jane had to deal with him in the bid to make him a Potions-Savant and his thoughts caused _her_ nightmares. The only thing she finally succeeded was in making him think of Lily as his sister. She also had only moderate success in her attempts to wean Severus of Evil Intent Magic. He and Hadrian, and by extension the other Marauders, had also been 'coaxed' into a modicum of truce.

Matters with the Marauders and Lily were far better.

Sirius had come out of his shell completely, which was good, because had that not happened, there was a chance of Sirius becoming a DE. In the first timeline, James had found a way to draw Sirius out through madness and mayhem. Sirius was almost back to being the Sirius that Moony had talked about that Jane (Hermione), more than Harry, had known. There was never a quiet moment with him around. Harry remembered how he had often allowed himself to be influenced by Ron. James was very much the same, now that Sirius was much more assertive. But Sirius was very much unlike Ron. Every new spell that they learnt was another weapon in their prank-arsenal. Sirius was open to experimentation in very different ways for each prank. As he was quite the proverbial Jack-of-all-trades and also quite devious, he was very likely to let his ideas run to all imaginable directions.

The real reason why Sirius **_was_** happy was the distance Bellatrix kept. Over the break, she had attempted to bully Sirius about his sorting, and had tried to convert Regulus to her manner of madness. Sirius had only to make soft clip-clopping sounds to drive her away. Bellatrix had hidden in her room and stayed away from the brothers for the break.

James was a very obvious natural at Transfiguration, and he had taken up the mantle of using the art for pranks. Transfiguration also required a vivid imagination and visualisation. He did have second thoughts about a prank every now and then. He was – unlike the first go-around – more likely to think of the consequences and also the way a prank would affect the victim. That did not mean that he had toned down the pranks. It only meant that he had changed the kind of pranks he pulled. They were more along the lines of 'funny' instead of bordering on bullying.

Peter too, had changed a lot. Instead of the cowering, snivelling, cowardly, treacherous excuse of a human, he was quiet, but self-assured. He was never going to be the best, academically, but he was good enough to maintain decent position in all the classes. The first time around, he was the butt of the jokes that the other three (mainly James and Sirius) cracked and also the lookout. He (again like Ron) craved importance. This time, he was respected more than he was before, and even though he didn't have as much importance as he wanted, it was enough for the time being.

What was different with him, though, was that he had found something that was really his calling. Peter was a people-pleaser. He often tried too hard at that. Remus had turned that to a different aspect. Peter had a hidden caring side. This Peter, unlike the Death Eater, really didn't like to see anyone hurt. This had been quickly brought to Hadrian and Jane's notice, who introduced him to Madam Pomfrey. He had taken to her mini-tutorials about healing like a duck to water. For the life of him, Hadrian couldn't understand how this came to be, until Jane explained it to him. Peter was far deeper than he was given credit for. As with any person, the situations and circumstances had brought out his unsavoury nature. Peter didn't like anyone – including himself – to be hurt, he craved importance, and he had a self-serving streak, and had an inner sense of profit. War had caused him to look out for himself alone. The 'including himself' part had turned to 'chiefly himself'. And that had made him take the mark, apart from external influences.

With Lily they had to be very cautious. Unlike the first time around, when she tolerated Remus, she had become his friend already in the first year. It was becoming difficult for Remus to not slip into the easy friendship he had with Lily, or to not refer to an inside joke that they would probably have years later (that wasn't the worst part of it; he also had to stop himself several times from calling James, Sirius or Peter by their Marauder names). It had been a shock to them when Lily had almost immediately figured out about Moony. She had confronted him about it, causing the poor man's/boy's insecurities to rise again. That was enough answer for her. Before either of the three could move to erase her memory, however, she promised Remus that she didn't hold that against him, and that he would still be her friend. It had taken Remus quite some time to calm down after that. He had broken down as he remembered the Lily that had died. What sort of a person this Lily would be, was anyone's guess. His best friends (for they were still just that in his heart) had either not sussed the secret out yet or had decided not to broach it. Either way, they were making none-too-subtle moves to include him in everything that they did. Remus found that almost addictive. It was so easy to be among them again.

All the same, Jane had put Lily under a geas that would prevent her from speaking about the Lycanthropy at all. The control for it was tied to Remus. If he had no problems with the person being intimated about it in some way, she could still lead another to that conclusion.

More importantly, Lily was already breaking away from the influence of Snivel- from the influence of Severus. As a wee first year she was not able to effectively reach out to a wider group of people, but she, along with Mary, Jane, Catherine, Arwen and Eleanor were effectively becoming just as close a group as the residents of the male first year dormitory. The Lily Evans that Remus and Sirius had described was a firebrand witch; however that aspect of her personality had peeked out only after the enforced distance between Severus and her due to House differences became very difficult to ignore. That was in their third year, a good two-and-a-bit years before their permanent estrangement. This Lily Evans was already proving herself to be as fiery as the one Harry had been told about. No slurs, sneers and put-downs from her year-mates would cow her down.

The presence of Hadrian and Jane, and Remus, with his memories, was already changing a lot of the present and therefore, also the future. Just to ensure that Harry would be born, however, Jane very sneakily implanted the germ that would eventually get James and Lily attracted to each other; as well as very benign suggestions in the minds of everybody else that made them think that the two would be great together. Hadrian was dead set against this when she had suggested it, citing that both should get the chance to choose who they loved. But for Jane, this was for the Greater Good – she wanted her best friend and love right where she had him in her futuristic incarnation.

The lull period was really driving both Hadrian and Jane up the walls. Theoretically, it was all well to know that this was one of those times when their patience and vigilance would be tested. That didn't make matters easier for them. Their increasing interactions with their peers, in spite of their ability to separate their school/social lives and the mission, were a cause for major worry. It would be too easy to lose a good habit and become lax and end up compromising their secrets and thereby, the mission.

* * *

The lull period in this chapter is deliberate


	7. The Storm is Coming

**The Storm is Coming**

* * *

1] Thank you, alix33 for going over each of the previous chapters and proofreading them. I am sure that I will continue to make mistakes, and alix33's checking ensures that I learn from them. On her profile she mentions that people call her schoolmarm and such. Well, in that case, I am sure that you are the best and most effective schoolmarm there is on . Your efforts are highly appreciated and are of great value to us. Thanks again, ma'am.

2] Even though it was hinted that Dumbledore knew that Riddle was Voldemort, according to the job interview memory, I have purposely ignored it. Dumbledore would have guessed at all the necromantic magics Riddle might have cast, over the ensuing years of the war, given enough time. Right now, in this story, Dumbledore **_doesn't_** know.

* * *

Late at night on the 22nd of April, the intensely infuriating drudgery that made the time-travellers as jumpy as a kneazles in a roomful of rocking chairs, ended. Mad-Eye had called in on an emergency basis.

"Moony! Moony! Wake up!"

"Bugger off, cub!" Remus snarled sleepily, though the jaw-breaking yawn that punctuated the snarl totally ruined the effect.

"I get it that I am interrupting your wet dreams about a baby that will be born two years hence, but right now we require the Watching Wolf to report to duty!" M-H hissed.

Moony sprang out of bed as he dashed about and started dressing up. "Go wake Janie," he suggested. "I'll get the RoR ready. Meet you lot in five."

M-H dashed off towards the girls' dormitory, fully dressed in combat clothes, taking along his communication mirror, galleons, blood-bonded wand and the goblin-made daggers infused with basilisk venom. That was only a part of the eventual combat regalia that they wanted. A small gun that could be hidden was still being searched for. Given the strict muggle laws regarding firearms, the illegal obtainment of firearms was proving to be a massive hurdle. Bullets, being projectiles, were not stopped by shields. In that matter, they were just like the Unforgivables. Only solid objects were useful. But it would take lot of time to conjure solid objects. By the time the eventual victim got over the shock of the report and realised that a shield had to be conjured, the bullet would already have struck its target.

When Janie, Moony and Hadrian reached the RoR, they called up Mad-Eye.

"Why was Sturgis Podmore arrested?" Remus asked.

"Because he was imperiused by Malfoy to break into the DoM," answered Mad-Eye. "Whom did Scrimgeour arrest?"

"Stan Shunpike," answered Hadrian.

"What's up Mad-Eye? Where's the fire? And where **_were_** you these past two months? You didn't even contact us on the mirrors!" Janie, as usual, fired her full litany of questions.

"Calm it, girlie. The fire hasn't started yet. But it soon will. We need to meet up, and soon. I am in the PTIEC. Meet you lot in five."

Jane and Hadrian nodded, but Remus was flummoxed. "How do we get out of here?"

"Huh?"

"Oh! He doesn't know Harry!" Turning to Remus, she explained, "When Snivellus and the Carrows started torturing the students, withholding food and water and all that, Neville found out that the RoR could create a way out to Hogsmeade through the Hog's Head. We are thinking of the Shrieking Shack. We can apparate from there."

Remus thought about that, and then concluded that it made sense. "I can't apparate though."

"We will side-along apparate you."

Just as they reached the PTIEC, they were met by an extremely harried Tippy. "Oh Masters Harry, Remy! Miss Hermi! It is very good that youse bes comes to ptake! Master Moody is being very badly hurt!"

That was the last thing that the three needed to hear. "Bloody hell!" muttered Moony, summing up their respective sentiments.

"Mad-Eye!" shouted the three in unison.

"Keep your f-ing voices down, you bunch of idiots!" hissed Mad-Eye. He then grimaced in pain and could only grunt and nod in acknowledgement when Tippy handed him a headache potion. Once he had downed it, he started grumbling again. "Bunch of greenhorns thinking they can take on a full-fledged Dark Lord... Only saving grace is they can actually do something..."

None of the three students could stifle their grins at that.

Mad-Eye's right leg was trussed up and was obviously bleeding. He looked extremely pale and had all the classic symptoms of sickness, which, when combined with the fact that the full moon was only five nights away, gave rise to a very terrible fear.

"You have been bitten by a werewolf, haven't you?" It wasn't really a question. "Was this on the full moon night or was the werewolf a human? How much time did you waste? Please tell us you weren't bitten last month!" Jane had latched onto something that she still held hope for.

"Human," grunted Mad-Eye. The three let out a sigh of relief that they didn't know they were holding. "I am not so foolish as to wait for three weeks if I were bitten on the full moon; would've cut the ruddy leg off, myself. Ran into Sasha Gorkov," Mad-Eye elaborated. "The bugger is Greyback's first ' ** _son_** '."

"What d'you mean by that?" Hadrian asked puzzled. The weird stress on the word 'son' had baffled him.

"Fenrir always calls those who he infects and turns fully, his children. They are his pack, so to speak. It is common werewolf terminology. There was this werewolf, who went by the nom de plume 'Maelstrom', whom I met in 1979. Bloke was rich, and he actually tended to his 'children'. He was a sailor on his own fleet. Unfortunately, he had to ground himself. The moon affects tides as well, and it isn't a good place to be for a werewolf." Turning to Mad-Eye, he asked, "About this Sasha; is he about five feet tall, with a scar across the left side of his face, and has heterochromia?"

"Hetero-what?"

"Heterochromia – were his eyes of two different colours – in this case grey and blue?"

"Yes. Barring the scar, that's a complete description. The eyes are too prominent to miss. Why?"

"I fought him when Riddle attacked Hogwarts. He had just helped Bellatrix kill Tonks. He held my neck in his jaws, trying to choke me down while Dolohov fired the Killing Curse. He also had this weird fighting style – it was less lupine and more like a coyote. He would make himself look larger by scrunching himself up into a tall arc and come at you like a rabid animal; well that's about as well as I can remember, considering that I was a rabid animal in those moments, myself."

While Remus had reported it in a completely bland manner, the hatred he felt for the beast that had helped orphan his son was palpable – and also shared by the other three.

"Yes. Well he won't be doing any more of that, wolfie." Mad-Eye assured Remus with a nasty grin. "I put him down for good. He'd just clamped onto my thigh," he elaborated, pointing to the bandaged thigh. "Foolish bugger didn't let go even when I cast the cutting curse and his body fell to the ground. Burnt his body, I did."

Remus sent Mad-Eye a look of pure gratitude. Further discussion was put on hold as Tippy, Jane and Hadrian undid the poorly done bandaging. It was a ghastly sight, but completely expected.

"When and where did this happen, Mad-Eye?"

"I was around in the Black Forest. Got bit four hours ago," Mad-Eye responded.

"Four hours?" Hadrian asked incredulously. "What the bloody hell were you doing for four hours? And what were you doing in the Black Forest anyway?"

"Lupin will tell you, and Weasley would've told you that a werewolf bite is insanely painful. I was returning from Albania, wasn't I?" asked Mad-Eye snarkily.

"Blimey! That must be what – a thousand mile trek from Albania to the Black Forest? You were backpacking across Europe for two months?"

Hadrian was asking the questions to divert Mad-Eye's attention. The silly man wouldn't allow anyone to anesthetise him. Mad-Eye had caught onto that, but played along. That was sorely tested when Jane carefully cut off all the flesh from the thigh around the infected area and started dabbing it with a muggle antiseptic which incidentally contained silver nitrate, before treating it with very fine silver powder and Essence of Dittany.

"Stings like a bitch," the Auror observed. That was equivalent to heart-rending wails and screams of a normal person. Thankfully, Harry's "I am fine" routine had made Jane accustomed to people underplaying their injuries.

"Of course it does," Jane replied testily. "You won't let me give you a general body dose. I don't even want to know about the effect that petrifaction or stunning will have on this. I have applied numbing charms, but they can only be useful up to an extent. You are going to be out of commission for a week, by the way." Once she was done, she started applying the flesh-growth ointment, and plied him with the Nerve-Repairing Potion as well as a blood replenisher.

"Haven't you got the flesh-knitting charm?" Mad-Eye asked irritably.

"I need some flesh to exist in the first place, before I can knit it, Alastor. Now stop moaning or I will sic Poppy Pomfrey on you."

"A fat lot of good that'll do," Alastor grumbled before dropping off to sleep as the sleep potion that was snuck into his hip flask took effect. Hadrian, Remus and Jane sat on a conjured couch and soon dozed off themselves.

Alastor's wakeful groan woke them at the ungodly hour of half past three. He looked slightly better, now that he had some proper food in his stomach – though he grimaced every now and then as the growing flesh and repairing nerves drove daggers of phantom pain. Flicking his wand at the lighting works, Jane sat back down to hear what definitely seemed to be an exciting tale complete with interesting incidents, if not much new information.

"Which of you jerks drugged me?"

"I did," Remus replied unrepentantly. "I know from experience that it works better." He only received another grunt in response.

"So, are you going to tell us?" It was obvious that the three were excited, but were holding on – if only just.

"Nothing like a bedtime story, eh?" growled Alastor. "Very well; but before that, I have something for you." He brought out a piece of parchment and handed it to Jane. It bore the coordinates of a place.

Hadrian looked at him in puzzlement once he had read the parchment over Jane's shoulder.

"I found the area in which he has placed...something. I am not sure what it is, but whatever it is, my gut instinct was to run from it – fast. And I did just that. Thought you'd like to check," he informed them. "There are loads of protections around. I am pretty sure there are Parseltongue activated wards. There were too many snakes congregating in that area to not find it odd."

"It must be the tree where Helena had hidden the Diadem first," Remus reasoned.

"It must be," Mad-Eye concurred. "I never felt as chilled to the bone as I did there. It almost felt as if Death was alive there, if you get my meaning. It is as if that patch of the forest is dead, but only held firm and foreboding by whatever magic Riddle has cast there. I swear that had I entered the place unassisted, I might have not left it alive. The forest-patch felt like a coven of the illegitimate offspring of Vampires and Dementors."

They all shuddered involuntarily. "You remember it Jane? Just like Radagast explained his feelings around Dol Guldur in Mirkwood to Gandalf."

"It is eerily similar," Jane concurred. At the puzzled frowns that Remus and Alastor sported, Jane explained the reference. "It makes sense. It was the stronghold of the Necromancer Sauron."

"Yes. But I can't understand – why would he place protections around it now?" asked Hadrian, before answering his own question. "Of course!" exclaimed he. "He must have placed the diary there!"

Jane was quick to spot that he mentioned the diary and not 'one of his other two Horcruxes'. "Why d'you think it's the diary?"

Hadrian smiled a bit smugly. It wasn't often that he could logically make a connection before she did. "We know that Tom has a fixation with the Founders' objects. The Diary-Horcrux was his masterpiece created with _**his**_ diary; not a Founders' object. While he had accessed a Founder's chamber and recorded his soul and memories of that in the Diary, it wasn't a Founders' object. He would've felt the need to legitimise it. Now we know that the tree in which Helena placed the Diadem had once housed a Founders' relic. Placing the diary would be – I don't know what to call it – a perverse baptism perhaps? Given his delusions of greatness, this would be the next best thing after the homes of the Founders."

"Makes sense, from one standpoint. But there may again be another reason," Jane guessed. The other three only looked at her with inquisitive looks. "What I think is that the tree is like the cupboard in Tom's orphanage room. It was where he stored all the stolen items. We know for sure that he found the locket and the cup at the same time. He may or may not have turned those into Horcruxes, yet."

Hadrian accepted that. He still was a bit crestfallen though.

"I am not saying that you are wrong to think of the diary, luv. For all we know, all those things might've been placed together. What I am trying to say is that even if we find something that isn't what we expect, we shouldn't be disheartened."

"Aye!" Mad-Eye acknowledged with a nod.

"What else happened, Mad-Eye?"

"Well, most of the time, I was visiting people I knew across the continent, asking questions to try and find out about any funny incidents. As I expected there were a few 'funny' deaths here and there. How exactly does a reticulated python kill a person in Russia? What is a reticulated python doing there in the first place? My immediate instinct was Riddle's familiar. Merlin knows how he made it poisonous. But that wasn't it. The beast had killed the owner of a clandestine pet shop – the very pet shop in which it was being housed. And it was odd because the man wasn't even wealthy. He had no mistress. He had no enemies. He even had all the right people bribed. It was a murder all the same. I put a Legillimency probe on his daughter. The family are Parselmouths – or rather, were. The girl was killed the same night as I got her memory. Someone did something to all the snakes, and the python just slithered out and killed the man, and had swallowed his upper half. The girl was bitten by an Egyptian Cobra which, incidentally, was the one snake they did ** _not_** have. So I went about and investigated the other deaths. All show the same thing. Fourteen practicing Parsel-magicians and any Parselmouth relatives of said magicians were all killed in the most mysterious circumstances."

"He is worried about them being used against him," Remus said, pointing out the obvious.

"Exactly; the Dark Mark is placed with a Parseltongue incantation. That, and as Pot–sorry – Hadrian found out, the rituals performed with chants – and spells cast in – magical languages are more potent. It is something that we never knew about the last time around."

"Mad-Eye?" ventured Remus. "There is a registry of Mind Magic practitioners, isn't there?"

"Yes, there is. Can the Ministry as k for Parsel-magic practitioners to register?"

"No. That is actually because nobody will register. It is a Class 3/ Level Z2 classified type of Dark Magic," Alastor explained. "Bloody fools!" he spat.

"And yet they wanted werewolves to register."

"Actually that is a sound idea – having werewolves register."

"WHAT?" Remus shouted in shock.

"Yes. Hear me out!" growled Hadrian.

Remus' eyes had started showing panic, anger, betrayal and so many other things, so naturally they were becoming amber like the wolf's eyes.

"Think, Moony. I am obviously going to foist this onto Grandpa Charlus. Right now we don't have enough resources to give everyone Wolfsbane – and even if we did, not everyone is you. By registering werewolves, in secret, we can keep a contingent – yes I said a contingent, get over it – which will be sane. In other words, this contingent, for lack of a better word, will not be recruited by Voldemort. These registered werewolves will be taught skills for employment in the muggle world if not ours. Is that going to reduce the attacks or Dumbledore using you as his spy to sound them out? I am just thinking about giving them all a viable option. If we keep ten of them out of the battle, it would mean ten less people that Voldemort can command, ten less people that will follow Greyback, ten less people forced to become mindless animals that would turn others!"

Remus had been shocked into silence by Harry's plan. "You mean to hide them, technically."

"Yes. How many of them were cast away or blackmailed into doing Riddle's bidding the last time around?"

"Too many," Remus answered with a gusty sigh, "far too many."

"Nice though the plan would be, theoretically, where would the money come from? I don't think Charlus will think highly of a plan that will squander away the Potter fortune." Moody had raised a very pertinent point.

"Gringotts," answered Hadrian. "I think I can break into Gringotts' vaults."

"You managed the curse-breaking?" There was unbridled awe in Jane's voice.

"I think so. I planned to check that out over the summer. I can also forge Goblin magic, once I get hold of the Goblin in question."

"Ah. I get it. Sell the gold, get muggle money, convert to galleons, and sell the gold again... Damn! That **_is_** a good idea," Mad-Eye growled in approval.

"But you know there will be a problem, don't you? We will have to ensure that there will be no inheritors if we are to steal the gold. So it has to be a completely DE family, with no cousins and the sort."

"Yes."

"And?"

"There are four. The Carrow siblings are the last of their line; then there are the Selwyns, Lestranges and Malfoys. They are unlikely to have any muggleborn inheritors. They assiduously practiced line-cleansing – killed all the squibs born in the family. I checked that before you came to the here and now."

"Which of the three is the best option? Have you considered that? If we are to break into a vault, I would rather not have the same situation as with the Lestrange Vault."

"I have. I narrowed down to these four after some genealogical research. Each family is small. The only living family, outside of the main branch was for the Selwyns. Alfred Selwyn who passed out in 1991 will be born two years hence in March. The Umbridge family had some claim through Dolores' maternal side. Her Toadiness was the only child. The other major problem would be the Black family and Urquharts, but I am sure that the former can be... ** _convinced_**...to relinquish the claim. The later are problematic.

"The Carrows are, in my opinion the safest bet. They have absolutely no living relatives. There is no family except the parents and the siblings. They are also only moderately rich. If I have guessed correctly based on available data, they have about five hundred and fifty thousand galleons. A galleon is about twenty four pounds, twelve shillings and five pence in old money, or as it is denoted now, twenty four pounds and sixty five pence. That is about thirteen million pounds."

Mad-Eye swallowed his tongue while Remus whistled in awe.

"That's not right," Jane protested. "I distinctly remember my father cracking a joke about the conversion. I remember that it was nine pounds eighty six pence to the galleon. He used to say that wizards understood the **_gravity_** of money and that it was a **_polar_** opposite of the way things were in the muggle world."

Neither Remus nor Alastor understood that joke. Hadrian did not bother to explain, but hurried on to pacify Jane.

"I am not talking about the exchange rate, Jane. The Galleon is about an ounce and a quarter. I am talking about gold prices. And they are bound to grow."

Jane made an 'O' in comprehension.

"What about the Lestranges and Malfoys?"

"They can't be touched right now. We can't take away Riddle's top enforcers immediately. Killing them in battle will be different. Assassinating them will destroy our plans, and we can't make a contingency where the Malfoy and Lestrange money doesn't support him. A lot depends on how we react to his hordes after he becomes a proper threat."

"That is important," interjected Remus. "I get the feeling that Riddle won't actually care about who makes up his hordes. If we take out the pureblood supremacists without war, Riddle will lead a non-pureblood uprising. Remember; he only cares for himself, and he has no particular love for the purebloods either, given the way he disposed of Hephzibah Smith, and even Morfin Gaunt. If we remove the top echelon supremacists, the ones that would remain of his DEs would be largely powerless and moneyless. Riddle won't bother with them and will gather a different flock. In that aspect we have to preserve the status quo."

"You know, you lot think differently than The Order. I like it," Mad-Eye praised. "You have got concrete plans of action. Even though that is based on future knowledge, you don't waste it the way Albus would have in trying to convert the scum. I feel better about our chances."

"Mad-Eye loves us!" Hadrian rasped.

"Climb down yer perch boy."

"Yes; shut up Harry," mocked Jane. "What else happened Mad-Eye? We seem to be getting blown off course all the time."

"I have heard rumours of him approaching the giants, lass. Right now Zahrgrohk and Fridwulfa are ruling the roost in the giant colony of the Ural Mountains and they ain't moving. At least that's what I have heard. I wasn't fool enough to go there," Mad-Eye reported. "Worryingly, however, six bull giants have broken off from their herd. There are also four females. There are several confirmed sightings of giants and more than just rumours of an ongoing feud between the giants and a coven of Vampires in the Carpathians. People have started fleeing the area. Muggles are having their memories modified on a daily basis. There are only so many landslides you can believe in."

 ** _That_** was worrisome. That was very worrisome. Ten Giants could cause unmitigated havoc on their worst days. What ten motivated giants could do on a good day for them was best left unimagined. Giants were, in behaviour, a very odd cross between Rhinoceroses and Humans. They looked like – well – gigantic humans, wore clothes, had a language, had a hierarchy in their herd and cooked their food over massive fires. Yet, just like Rhinoceroses, they kept to well-trodden paths. They didn't mark the paths and territories with dung or urine, of course, but with the mixture of blood and saliva. They also had excellent hearing and olfactory senses to offset their poor eyesight. Giants were also painfully shy of human contact, yet unbelievably vicious and violent towards any poor sod that happened to walk into their territory. It was only the rare humans like Hagrid Sr. and Madam Maxime's father who walked away with only their chastity lost in exchange.

For six bull giants to move **_sixteen hundred_** miles from their home territory after splitting from their herd to form a new one was more than just odd. It was more in keeping with the larger pachyderm cousins – the elephants. And elephants, as is widely known, are extremely clever beings. A clever (even though it was an extrapolation from **_one_** deviation) and violent giant colony was a terrifying prospect.

"How did you lot deal with the giants the last time around?"

"Massive tripping jinxes – either in power or in number. The other option would be to send several bone-breakers to their joints simultaneously. It's not easy to bring down a giant."

"Unless we manage to pilfer a tank or a missile launcher, that is," retorted Hermione. "And I don't think either of Harry's grandfathers can manage that. Mr. Evans has a slight chance with muggle weaponry as he was around London during the German bombings. But a tank will be out of his capability to procure and out of ours to handle."

"That will be a bridge to cross when we come to it, lass," Moody interrupted. "I was actually saving the worst for the last. There is this cult that Riddle has been courting. It started off as some sort of monastery or something. But they are actually magical mercenaries. They are rumoured to be ritual masters also. We don't know how much success he has had in getting them onto his side. I can only hope he hasn't had any. That they allowed him to contact them, is success; in and of itself. Nothing frightens me more than that."

"So all is well and sunshine and rainbows, pancakes and happiness," Hadrian celebrated in sarcasm in a sing-song voice.

"Absolutely," Mad-eye retorted with a grim face. "What have you done these past few months?"

"Apart from getting bored in the lessons? Quite a lot. We have been spending time with pensieve memories, learning the way those scum fought, we have been profiling every DE we knew, and we have been reprogramming the ones in third year and below, and also a few chosen ones in the ones above."

"Reprogramming?"

"We have been replacing the way their brain operates with reference to their memories. Narcissa now hates Lucius with passion. You won't be losing your nose to Rosier, as far as we can tell. Took care of Evan."

"He was what – a third year?"

"He still **_is_** a third year. He has been having several ' ** _epiphanies_** ' about the fallacy of the supremacist movement, lately, and has a new hero in the ambitious Ted Tonks who wants to be a renowned lawyer in both the worlds. Alexander Greengrass, fourth year Slytherin student has been thinking how it is completely stupid that magic can actually be **_'stolen'._** That his squib elder sister and her muggle husband will soon have a magical child has swung it for him. Mark and Michael his younger twin brothers are already being veered away from the more demonstrative supremacists. It is very time consuming, but Voldemort is already eight future-minions short."

Mad-Eye nodded appreciatively.

"We also found out something about the Horcruxes which may or may not be useful for us." Remus explained the theory about the soul magics in The Book.

"So Riddle has fluffed his lines, but it may or may not work against him. What else?"

"Jane got grandfather Charlus to find out the Ministry tracing mechanisms. We have the ritual chants and the spells for the Horcrux creation down. We are trying to set up a Taboo. In this chase after Riddle, we don't know how many other Dark Lords have slipped though our fingers."

Moody looked at Jane with something akin to pride. "That's me lass!" Jane beamed at him.

"Remus also has a lead on what we think was the unaccounted for Horcrux." Mad-Eye's grizzled eyebrows threatened to escape into orbit.

"You better explain that!"

"When Riddle killed Myrtle, he ended up with a prize for apparently catching her murderer. It would be one of his greatest achievements. We intend to steal that just after our exams," Remus said, before elaborating further, "We know that he didn't get any item of Gryffindor. At least he hasn't, yet. In that case, the Diary and the Shield he got as an award would serve as mementos of his first big strike, and for getting away with it scot free, with nary a suspicion. It would seem to him as the ultimate expression of his cunning."

Moody nodded. "It makes sense. Move up your plans for stealing it, will you? I want a detector. I will just install it in the Ministry entrance and poof! All the Death Eaters within the Ministry will be in distracted long enough for us to take them out."

"Works for us. That's of course assuming that Remus is right. Otherwise we have a camping trip to Albania to look forward to."

"Look out for Dumbledore when you do that won't you? We can't give the game away."

"Of course," replied Remus, but Jane wasn't so sure.

"Alastor? I think we might need to modify that part of the plan a bit."

"You want to bring Albus in?" Alastor asked sceptically.

"NO! Absolutely not! But I think that in this case, it may be good for us to have someone on our side, searching for the trinkets in case we fail to find them all quickly. I think we should drop a hint and hope Albus takes it. Nothing beyond that. We need all our ducks in a row right now, but Albus could help catch a wayward one, without knowing who he really is helping."

"Makes sense," agreed Alastor. "Just make sure that he doesn't snoop around about you. We can't have him asking tough questions about how you know of such things."

"Of course Mad-Eye. Don't worry, I have a plan," assured Jane, before chorusing with the others in a shout, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

And that was that. The dicta-quill sitting on the table had recorded the entire conversation on parchment. Hadrian grabbed the parchment and the file where he recorded the minutes of meetings and reports of actions or decisions taken. "We will drop in every night to check on you, Mad-Eye. Just don't run into more of those bloodthirsty not-Moonys."

* * *

Hogwarts students woke up to black banners instead of the House flags on the morning of the 1st of May. Albus Dumbledore, having ditched his garish colour-spills masquerading as robes for the black mourning robes addressed the students.

"It is with a very heavy heart that I must inform you all about the tragedies that occurred last night – the night of Walpurgis, before the Daily Prophet informs you of the very same.

"Three very important Houses – the Ancient and Noble Houses of Cotton and Green, and the Most Ancient House of Prowse were attacked last night. All three Houses, through their members have contributed immensely to magical society. Indeed the House of Prowse, which, even though it is not very well known, owns the lands on which our school stands. All four living members of the family were killed, effectively ending the line. This is in addition to attacks on the Houses of several muggleborn students that would have joined us in the coming years. A total of fifty three lives were lost.

"As for the House of Cotton, its Heir, Matthew Cotton of Ravenclaw House is certainly among our better known students. Matthew's father Fredrick was, as most of you must know, the Head of the DMLE. He and his wife, too, were murdered in cold blood last night. We stand by Matthew Cotton in his time of sorrow, as we have in every instance of his presence in this school. He has, in absentia, our deepest condolences.

"Similarly for the House of Green, Lord and Lady Green as well as their baby daughter, were slaughtered last night. Lady Ophelia and Lord Gordon were both making their name among the political machinery of our country at their young age.

"You may all wonder why these deaths are so important to take note of, beyond the need to be vigilant for a murderer. You are simultaneously right and wrong to do so.

"When man falls to such depths as to perform the gruesome acts of murder of his fellowman, it is his descent into darkness. These murders were not just mindless killings – they were a means to convey a message to the magical world. Each of these Houses either had a muggle or muggleborn married into the House or as in the case of the House of Prowse, had not discriminated against the squib born in the family.

"This new threat to our world intends to eliminate all those born to non-magical ancestors – partially or fully.

"The Ministry doesn't wish for these gruesome facts to be known to you, as it deems you too young to make a stand. I however, beg to differ. I shall reiterate, and tell you the name of this new threat, so that you shall be cautious and vigilant.

"The one who calls himself Lord Voldemort plans to annihilate all those who do not conform to his notions of blood purity. It is only a truly vile man who discriminates and murders his fellowmen based on their ancestry, beliefs or any such reason. The message was conveyed with one sole objective – he means to warn any who would deign to oppose him. These murders were a warning, a glimpse of things to come, as he has promised. He will not stop at this, as was evidenced by the messages he left at each centre of attack, carved upon his victims' bodies, and the Dark Mark floating overhead. As much as it pains me to tell you this, this problem is unlikely to be resolved overnight, if what this Lord Voldemort claims is true. He has promised more such attacks till such time as magical Britain capitulates to his demands, whenever he sees fit to place these demands on the table.

"Whatever his personal beliefs might be, when a person engenders hatred on their basis, it harms the society at large. Lord Voldemort is a threat to our society. It is not too early for you to take a stand. Ask questions, understand things for yourselves and make informed decisions.

"Above all, be safe, be cautious of whom and what you believe in, and remember to value each life. The coming storm will ask many questions of us, as a society, in general. We will have to answer these questions together. Remember that."

He then raised his glass in remembrance of the departed. Everyone could see the angry glare he cast Lucius' and his cronies' way. Lucius Malfoy was behaving in the same way Draco had after Dumbledore's speech in remembrance of Cedric Diggory. Well, it was highly likely that the line would end with Lucius.

* * *

Lessons were suspended for the day. This was indeed the opportune moment to put Dumbledore onto the path where he could guess the extent to which Tom might have gone.

Jane and Hadrian decided to put him on the track. It was obviously necessary to bell the cat directly. Going through McGonagall had proved fruitless, in their experience. They didn't want to have to go to Dumbledore's office, the last place Harry had visited before he ended up in the place between the places. Fortunately, they quite literally bumped into Dumbledore.

Acting like two typical first years awed by the persona that was Albus Dumbledore, they quickly squeaked their apologies, which the old man dismissed with a benevolent smile.

"It is quite alright, Miss –?"

"Miss Jane Bennett, sir; I was sorted on Halloween. This is my friend Hadrian Jameson."

"Hmm! I have heard of you from your teachers! Keep up the good work!" he said in a very patronising way, as he made to leave. Neither could blame him, as by the looks of things, he was likely to be very busy henceforth.

"Excuse us, sir, but we actually wanted to ask you something," Jane said innocently.

"Yes?"

"Sir, can magic stop people from dying, or bring people back from the dead?"

Whatever Dumbledore had expected, it wasn't two eleven year olds asking about Necromancy indirectly. It wasn't unusual for orphans to ask these questions, as they were mostly asked with their long dead families in mind. If they were on the Dark path, however, they had to be corrected now. He was loath to send a Legillimency probe, in case they detected something and mistrusted him, leading to something even worse than what seemed to be looming on the horizon.

"May I ask why you ask this question?"

"Yes sir. It is about that Voldemort person. We know some rudimentary French sir. So it was rather obvious that it couldn't be a real name. You know, like that Slytherin prefect, Malfoy. His name means 'bad faith' quite literally."

Once he was sure that they weren't seeking the dark knowledge, but were actually thinking about something important in relation to the case – in this case the identity of the murderer or murderers, Dumbledore became more interested in what they had to say.

"I understand. So does this Voldemort mean something similar?"

"Yes, something like that, sir. Voldemort literally means 'flee from death'."

"I see. Very good! Ten points each to Gryffindor for providing a clue which we all had overlooked!" He surveyed the two children keenly. "Is that all?"

"No sir. We are sorry for taking so much of your time, sir. But are you sure that there is nothing like Necromancy and Necromancers?"

This raised Dumbledore's hackles again. He had to head off that train of thought immediately. "That is only myth that is propagated by muggles who believed magic could perform any miracles, children."

Jane and Hadrian could have snorted. The man was so interested in keeping information under wraps and heading them off from the dark, that he was unable to recognise information being **_given_** to him.

"Oh!" Dumbledore had again not expected the brightening of the children's faces at that news, nor was he expecting the girl to start scolding the boy. "See Hadrian? I told you! Even magic cannot form things like the One Ring that Sauron the Necromancer created. Just because this Voldemort wants to flee from Death doesn't mean he can actually create an object like the One Ring!"

Jane pretended to be extremely angry at Hadrian for making a fool of her in front of a great wizard like Albus Dumbledore, while Hadrian pretended to quail under the onslaught. From the corner of their eyes, they could see Dumbledores interest being piqued again.

"I am sorry, but could you explain that reference please?"

"Sir? Oh, that!" exclaimed Hadrian in a way that suggested that he had quite forgotten the presence of the Headmaster. "That is from my favourite set of books, The Lord of The Rings, published in 1954. The Dark Lord called Sauron created an object called the One Ring. As long as this One Ring was intact, Sauron couldn't be killed. It also caused tremendous greediness for power among all those that came in contact with it and wore it. Finally, at the end of an epic battle, the Hero destroyed the Ring by throwing it into the Fires of Mount Doom. Sauron did not have a body at that time and died immediately."

Dumbledore paled tremendously. What were these muggles printing? The boy had just described a story where the Hero destroyed a Horcrux! He even described the possession by the Horcrux! He somehow managed to calm his nerves (even though the two had caught his violent reaction. They were sure that he had taken the information on board) as he realised that the two had also given him something to look out for.

"Could you arrange for me to have these books? While I am not conversant which such magic, it is likely that someone may have found some magic that acts in the same way..."

"Of course, sir. We will get you those books when we return next year!"

Dumbledore smiled weakly and sent them on their way. As they left, Albus could hear the girl still chastising the boy. "Honestly, Hadrian! Dumbledore is NOT Gandalf the Grey, or Gandalf the White who has returned from the West!" He couldn't help but let out a weak chuckle. To him, their doubts came from innocence and something that they had read. He was thankful to them, however. They had given him two massively important things to think about. It would do well to keep an eye on their progress. With such minds, they would be assets for the Order, if it came to that. "From the mouth of babes..." he muttered as he walked towards his office.


	8. The Order and The Rise of The Marauders

**The Order and the Rise of the Marauders**

While all the students were revelling in the simple pleasure of freedom at the end of the examinations, a very high profile meeting was taking place in the magically extending office of the Headmaster. This was what constituted of what he hoped would be a strong resistance to Voldemort. Aberforth, his brother, and Elphias Doge, his oldest living friend were present, as were Charlus Potter, a trusted fighter, Marius Hurst, William Cracknel, Albert Bird, Josephine Siddle, Martha Weston, John Salisbury, Ignatius and Mildred Prewett, Dedalus Diggle, Alastor Moody, Reginald Dearborn, Gerald Longbottom and his sister Astoria Longbottom, Gerald's wife Augusta, Rubeus Hagrid and Minerva McGonagall. These nineteen people, with him as their head, were the primary resistance against the coming storm – to his mind, of course. Another group, all four members of which he hoped to eventually recruit, had already stolen a march on him. Two of his current number had already pledged their loyalties to this group, and incidentally, those two were among the ones he trusted the most.

As soon as the call had come, Mad-Eye and Charlus had both rushed to Hogwarts. Having reached the meetingplace earlier than the others (and Mad-Eye having secured the area completely), they had decided upon a plan to meet with the three 'kids' later.

Lately, Charlus wasn't happy at all with his supposed grandson. The little berk had stopped writing altogether. The letters were something that both Dorea and he enjoyed immensely and looked forward to. More importantly however, he wasn't happy with The One for thrusting the responsibility on a child. Wasn't it His prerogative to ensure that people like this Voldemort didn't turn up at all? Why burden a child?

Mad-Eye, on his part, dispassionately looked around the room and sighed. Nothing had changed. It was just the same as the same meeting that had taken place three months earlier in the previous timeline. He already knew what Albus was about to say, just as Charlus did. He already knew that Albus would press them into some sort of an 'intelligence-service-mould' and ask them for information. Once he had been enthusiastic – as much as it was possible for him to be so – about the whole venture. Now he saw it as a bunch of people with utopian beliefs attempting to be the other side in the war. He felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment. He remembered Albus expounding the importance of **_arresting_** Riddle the last time around.

Oh, there was hope that the hint about Horcruxes would change his mind regarding the threat, but it was slim. Albus would have probably held hope that Riddle would feel remorse, the apparent 'medicine' to the splitting of one's soul. He cast away the maudlin thoughts. He had seen the progress that had already been made, and had participated in it. Granted, it was all based on knowledge gained from a future lived, but it was progress all the same, and he rather wished for the day to come when he would raise a glass and laugh about things that would happen by November 1978.

He looked at the people coming in. Fools, the lot of them, he decided. Well, most of them were. He'd known Ignatius and that man was a tenacious bulldog. Mildred was no slouch and had had the unique distinction of catching **_Alastor_** unawares **_after_** the war against Grindelwald. Charlus was keeping a facade of a pureblood Lord, but within that, he was already manipulating the Ministry steadily in favour of his grandson. Alastor respected the man. Cracknel and Bird had been his protégés as Auror Trainees, and were good men. The rest of them though were a rag-tag team of businessmen, schoolteachers, Ministry Bureaucrats and Wizengamot politicians, and a very innocent half-giant. There was nothing to inspire confidence in the group.

His eyes met Charlus' and he realised that The Potter had just made a similar assessment, if his frown was anything to go by. They shared a headshake in commiseration and camaraderie.

Albus appeared into their midst, dressed as usual in garishly coloured robes. The day's colours were neon pink, deep purple and lemon yellow. How could one person honestly wear those many colours at the same time? Perhaps it was just a ploy to be the centre of attention – it was like being unable to avert one's eyes from wreckage.

"Good afternoon, friends," Albus addressed them all, his customary eye-twinkle missing. "I hope you understand why we are all here."

"This is about the Voldemort creature, isn't it?" Elphias asked.

"It is," Albus replied with a slow nod.

"Is the problem so great as to need the Order again, Albus?" Minerva sniffed, but there was a warble of fear in her voice.

"Problems rarely manifest into their complete scope immediately, Minerva. You should know that. And we are not looking at just a murderer..."

"A mass murderer," Aberforth corrected.

"A mass murderer, indeed," agreed Albus. "We are in fact looking at impending darkness, one that will attempt to swallow this world more efficiently and easily than Gellert ever did."

"You don't honestly mean that Albus!" gasped Minerva. She received several voices of support.

"Indeed I do. In fact, we should be thankful to our first-year students for pointing the seriousness of the matter to us."

There were several exclamations of confusion and disbelief when he said that. Both Charlus and Mad-Eye sat a bit straighter as Albus mentioned the three 'kids'. This was new. Albus was not this serious at the start of the war the first time around. Was he worried? Yes. Was he bordering on afraid? No.

"Are any of you conversant with the French language?" Albus asked.

"I am," answered Astoria Longbottom.

"Then you must realise that Voldemort is not a true name."

Astoria stared into the distance for a moment, before whispering, "Flee from death."

"Yes. Flee from death. I fear that we are up against a Necromancer."

"NO!" cried Augusta in disgust, as did several others.

"I am sorry to say this, but I fear it. I fear it more than anything else."

A hush spread across the room as Albus Dumbledore verbalised fearing something. At long last, Mildred spoke, "A necromancer is a bad thing, Albus, but I wonder why he must be fought."

"What do you mean?"

"This man, he mustn't be simply a necromancer. There are several necromancers in England, as we all know. Many people are entranced by the concept of death, afterlife and life beyond the Veil. None of them has attacked or murdered people. Why did this man do it? What is his agenda? Who is he really? What is his past?"

"Finally some sense," Mad-Eye barked in assent. "We cannot fight an enemy that we know nothing about. Do we kill him? Do we arrest him? Is he subject to English laws? There are many questions Albus."

It was precisely that sort of thought process that Dumbledore valued the Order. Contrary to popular belief, he actually preferred people thinking for themselves. True, he didn't like his secrets come to the fore, but at the same time, the teacher in him revelled in the process itself by which the truth and knowledge was unveiled. It was why he never spoke many things outright.

"All of those are very pertinent questions, the answers of which I do not possess at this time. I am, however, working to find those very answers," he assured them.

As usual, when Dumbledore spoke, people accepted the answer unquestioningly. It was one of the perils of his position.

Alastor and Charlus exchanged a wry smile, before the latter decided to cast a line into Albus' information reserves. "It's just a thought, Albus, but how long have you been a teacher here?"

"Forty three years this coming September," the Headmaster replied.

"Then you must know most of the students that studied under you, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Albus replied cautiously.

"So if this person is English, don't you think that he might have been one of your students? You could check up on them, maybe get some background on this Voldemort creature."

Albus smiled widely. "A wonderful suggestion, Charlus!" complimented Dumbledore. "That is an excellent avenue to start investigations!"

Charlus only nodded. Now that he saw the way the Order worked he felt that the organisation would be nothing more than an annoying fly for Voldemort, if this was the way they intended to go after a murderer.

"What exactly do you need us to do, Headmaster?" asked Cracknel.

"Ah. Now we come to the point. We don't, as of this moment, know what Voldemort has asked for. Has he contacted the Ministry? Has he sent any emissaries? It is important to us."

"So right now you want information."

"Yes William."

"You shall have it sir, so long as doing so doesn't infringe our oaths."

"Of course," Dumbledore answered genially.

Alastor frowned. Then he remembered. Dumbledore didn't become the Chief Warlock till just after January 1981. Telling him anything much was a breach of their Auror Oaths.

"What about us, Albus?" Gerald asked, finally entering the conversation.

"The Wizengamot, Gerald," answered Albus, "is the place that a Dark Lord will really want to bring under control. I need you to look out for changing or new alliances, breaks of alliances, policies, new bills and such with Charlus." He pointed to The Potter. "I want you both to understand bills as and when they are brought forth. The Order of Merlin awardees will, as well, support the decisions you reach after thorough discussions."

"At the moment, we will have to court the neutrals, Dumbledore," Gerald answered. "They always scare me. Each side may end up having enough incentive – and none at all – to get them to cooperate."

Dumbledore frowned. "That is true." His grimace was clear for all to see. He never trusted the neutrals either. To his mind they were always one step away from the Dark, not businesspeople taking each policy on its own merit as something that would help or hinder their businesses instead of considering the policies as alignments. "At the moment, however, I ask you to formally join the Order. This right here, our Hogwarts chapter, will be the set of people whom other people will look at as leaders against the coming darkness. Are you willing to commit yourself to the cause?"

Unlike Voldemort, who needed fear to supplement his rhetoric, Dumbledore already commanded respect to wrap his agenda in. People signed up in a trice.

It was a marvellous study in influence. Dumbledore always had to just say the word, and people were willing to do anything for him. It wasn't only because of his defeat of Grindelwald and his work with Flamel – though that was an important part of the whole Dumbledore persona. Many people had been helped out of legal – but not moral – tight spots by Dumbledore. He had connected people by helping them, and without holding the help over them. He never gave them the sense of them being beholden to him in some way. This made people really grateful to him, and engendered trust. That was how the man worked. People aligned themselves to him irrespective of their personal opinion, which they would then consider immaterial.

The process was an oath of sorts. They would stand against the enemy, they would not betray Dumbledore's confidence, and they would do everything in their power to preserve the sanctity of magic and peace in the magical world. It was the same oath they had sworn the last time, Alastor remembered. In Charlus' honest opinion, it was utter dragon dung. Between them, the two men completely dissected the oath and found it wanting.

People would change their views regarding who the enemy was. They might not be able to betray Albus, but as Pettigrew and Snape had done before, it didn't preclude them from betraying each other. He retrospectively understood Albus' insistence that Snape was loyal to him. Loyalty was subjective. Loyalty to Albus didn't necessarily extend to anyone else. People could grow to believe that 'eliminating mudbloods' would preserve the sanctity of the magical world, that only purebloods had the right to wield magic. There was no provision to prevent actions arising out of such change of views.

 _"_ _Dumbledore is magically the wisest, greatest and most powerful wizard – mind you, I said 'wizard', not 'man'."_ Charlus remembered his grandson's words as they had been spoken to him. Alastor and he shared a look of empathy and exasperation over it.

* * *

Later that afternoon, just after the meeting ended, Remus, Hadrian and Jane met up with both Order members in the PTIEC. They had known about the impending Order meeting of course.

"He took the hint," Mad-Eye informed them curtly.

"About Horcruxes?" Jane asked.

"Yes. He didn't say it explicitly, but it was rather obvious." It was also obvious that Alastor was not happy about it, and so also wasn't Charlus. What made it a bit flummoxing was that both men were also torn about the whole matter.

Hadrian took the bait. "That is bad how?"

"Don't you understand?" asked Charlus incredulously. The three younger ones shook their heads in unison. "The very reaction of and disclosure by Albus is bad! Firstly, he has to have had some sort of lead. It simply **_has_** to be a solid lead! He declared it to the Order!"

The three younger time travellers frowned once more. They still couldn't comprehend what the problem was.

"Are you three fools?" barked Alastor. "It could mean that he may have caught on to the Horcruxes already!"

"But that was our plan when we enacted the drama that day!" protested Hadrian.

"And you had not counted on him telling the Order that," Charlus explained, interrupting what was rapidly descending into a shouting match.

"He told the Order?" Remus gasped. "Albus Dumbledore let out a secret of that magnitude?"

"If you'd cease with the dramatics, I'd tell you," Alastor growled. Remus' attempt at slight levity was trampled upon as he nodded sheepishly.

Charlus and Alastor then relayed everything that had happened during the meeting. They produced the members list. The instruction was implicit. Ambush members and check their credibility, and if possible, prevent them from talking about the necromantic leanings of the new Dark Lord with anyone but an Order member, and even then, in the highest possible security. Even one word spoken out of place, and the whole mission would be in disarray.

"And you want us to do that first, and ensure that nobody suspects you?"

"Yes," answered Alastor. "By pointing out to Albus that Riddle has done something to prevent death, you have created the problem. Now you will solve it."

Jane gave a disgruntled grunt, while the boys sighed resignedly.

Then they were told about the oath. The reaction was predictably explosive, particularly from Jane.

"Is he arrogant, senile, insane or just plain incompetent?" she asked. "The oath is not a good enough oath at all! Each clause is just a pointer to clever people regarding how the oath can be subverted! Don't betray Dumbledore – anyone else is fair game! Who is the enemy? What is the oath takers idea of sanctity of magic and peace in the magical world? It is absolute bullshit!"

The two elder men grinned at each other. The 'little witch' as they called her in jest and fondness was absolutely on the ball with her observations.

"That's the thing, lassie," Alastor grumbled. "It was the thing that drew my attention to it. Ever since I have come back to now, I have always been checking anything I put my lot in with. The Order needed a lot of retrospective analysis, and it is quite obvious that the Organisation as a whole was an utter failure. More and more now, to me, they seem like citizen groups that go lodge a protest with the local political biggie."

"I still don't understand it," Hadrian butted in. "The Order wanted to influence the magical world. Or perhaps it wanted to fight Voldemort. Why exactly were the two exclusive? From what I can remember, Voldemort was not a person, but the front of the insidious supremacist-terrorist movement. Again, as far as I can remember, the Order didn't act against the terrorists, nor did it become a political front to battle it out against that lot in the Wizengamot. What role did it perform, other than as a response or combat-aid team?"

"Nothing," replied Alastor. "Last time, as he did now, Dumbledore did appoint both Charlus and Gerald to work the Wizengamot. But both were killed by 1978, and neither had been able to make much headway, truthfully speaking. Major bills that they brought out almost always failed because of insufficient votes. The Death Eaters either killed the supporters or resorted to kidnapping and blackmail. So they really got nothing much done."

Charlus sobered a bit over that, while the others nodded in understanding.

"I take it that just like after 1981, a majority of **_that_** faction is comprised of Death Eaters?" remarked Remus.

"Yes."

"That's quite unfortunate."

"Yes."

"They won't have a faction to speak of once we are done?"

"Yes."

"Excellent!" exclaimed the werewolf and his nephew from the future in unison with identical evil grins.

Jane rolled her eyes at them. "What else happened?"

"Just what usually happened in Order meetings – nothing," answered Charlus with a snort. He had been in the Order as a twenty year old back in 1945, so he did know.

"Again, it isn't unexpected. Well, fair enough. Would you two mind waiting here with Remus? We intend to teach him to apparate, but right now he can't so..."

"Alright," answered Charlus.

Two hours later, both exhausted Hands were back in the PTIEC. Alastor raised an eyebrow at them in question.

"All the other seventeen people are accounted for," Jane replied shortly, as she attempted to catch her breath. "We ambushed them, stunned them, then we used Legillimency on them while they were stunned, tied together the memory of the meeting and put up secrecy spells around it. We will have to go after the old man next, but it will take some time. Even for us it will take quite some power."

Alastor grunted in acceptance.

"Unexpected revelations from Dumbledore aside, what is the progress that you have made as far as your mission goes?" asked Charlus.

"It's a good thing that you mentioned it," commented Hadrian. He drew out the shield that Tom Riddle had once won and a small glass ball that looked like it had gone murky from the inside, and handed both items over to the Auror. "Mad-Eye, as promised, you get your very own brand new detector," he informed the Auror in the manner of a car salesman completing a deal. "The ball is made of Zarthrock's crystal."

Alastor nearly dropped the ball as Charlus opened his mouth in shock. "Where and how did you find any Zarthrock's crystal at all?"

Zarthrock's crystal was the ultimate containment substance for any sort of magic that mankind knew. Anything encased inside the crystal was absolutely isolated from outside magical influences while at the same time its own effects on anything outside the crystal were nullified. Jane had likened it to the magical equivalent of Kryptonite. As it stood, encasing the soul piece inside the crystal would essentially destroy it as the vile thing would be starved of magic to sustain it. It was why the ball that Alastor now held was first etched with intersecting nanoscopic seams. These seams were then infused with snow of Phoenix tears, the purest solid substance on earth that was obtained when the warm tears of the bird mixed with freshly fallen snow. Both materials were massively rare, and were extremely important alchemically – even more so than the Philosopher's stone.

"Have you ever wondered why Goblins give away gold at cheap rates when muggles exchange paper money for it?" asked Hadrian.

Now that they thought of it, it was odd. Gold, as the time travellers had found, was sold at almost scrap prices by the goblins, considering that it was a precious metal. It was at the time averaging in the region of twenty five pounds an ounce – or, as the Galleons were an ounce and a quarter in weight nearly 31 and a quarter pounds. Yet the goblins never charged more than ten pounds per Galleon.

"Why?"

"Firstly, the greatest kept secret in Gringotts is not the magic of their protections on vaults. No. Their greatest secret is the fact that they have material mines under the bank. Zarthrock's Crystal is found in the same mines as gold. At very high temperatures as are found as one goes deeper and nearer to the earth's core, and under the influence of leylines, a variety of minerals – none of which have even a miniscule amount of gold – fuse to form the crystal. It is the ultimate magical damper for any kind of magic, not just human magic. It is the crystal that goblins covet the most," explained Jane in her best 'professor' voice. "They also infuse a bit of it into anything they sell to the humans, with a specific set of magics cast on them along with the magic of the user. So long as the one to whom it is sold lives and uses the item, the item itself cannot be used against them even if it is stolen. Once the first buyer dies, that component has to be renewed. It is why they always want it back and hate the things being inherited by the next of kin."

"So essentially, we are using the things that goblins treat as scrap as our money?"

"Well not scrap exactly, since it is their business and we know that they take that seriously, but they don't value gold the way we do."

"But wouldn't it make sense to take more money for little gold? I mean wouldn't that create exchange for them?"

"What use is it to them? Muggle money is just decorated paper, as far as those surly, greedy buggers are concerned. They are only concerned with the business of selling gold to magicals. Or have you never wondered where the gold to make the galleons comes from?" Remus asked as an afterthought. "Goblins have always made their homes near the biggest gold mines. It puts them in control of both the gold and the crystal. They then control the metal flow into the noble metal markets that cater to magical-only needs. They are worse than wizards when it comes to shunning the muggles – though they at least have reason to do so."

"This information is interesting and all that, but it does not pertain to our problem. How did you procure the Zarthrock?"

"Come now, Mad-Eye," chided Hadrian. "If gold can be smuggled by cartels, why should goblins and the crystal be any different? We intercepted one two days after we last met. We have been taking turns loitering around Gringotts. Of course, we were checking for something else, but this was fortuitous. We found out a group of the goblins smuggling it away, and killed a few of them with goblin means and stole some of what they were carrying. Then we used a disguise and complained to the head of the Horde, and also reported the goblin killings. He promptly executed the remaining lot and gave us one percent of the entire booty as a reward. All told, we got a whopping three kilos of the crystal from them, and another two which we had stolen. They had bartered away ten percent of their ready stock of the crystal in exchange for the other party's help in overthrowing the incumbent director."

"And how did you lot create the ball?"

"It has very low density compared to most other crystals, and the same spells that are useful in wandmaking can be used to shape it, so creating the soulball itself was not a big problem, nor was transferring the piece from the trophy," answered Remus. "The problem was in keeping the thing active. We had to keep it from possessing you, and also ensure that it remained useful. So we have further infused it phoenix tears, which Fawkes was so gracious to lend, and fresh snow can be created."

The two elder men had to hand it to the kids. They had done something completely illegal, for completely good ends. And they had done it in style.

"Where are you storing it? We can't put it into Gringotts."

"The Chamber, of course," Jane answered. "So is the thing to your satisfaction, Alastor?"

"You bet it is!" the man replied with something very close to gleeful enthusiasm.

Charlus also nodded in appreciation. "How much of that snaky bloke is gone?"

"We've taken out three trinkets now – this one was the unaccounted for item. Mad-Eye had a lead on a possible location, so we are going to visit that place about two or three weeks after we are out of here. We know of another location where Dumbledore had taken me last time around. We don't think it is a solid lead yet, but it needs monitoring. Even if we do find those things, we are not going to touch them for a while. Hogwarts is sacrosanct, so he won't come searching for the Diadem. It is no longer an anchor and is clean. The Ring we have left there, but we have extracted the soul piece from it as well. The detector based on it we have under a Fidelius in Diagon Alley. The other is here. That's about it. Right now we are going to keep things down to that."

"And...?"

"And we will start with assassinations, and helping out Grandmother Potter with the Blacks if need be. This, in fact, brings us neatly to the current moment."

"Oh?"

"Yes. We are taking out all the Carrows."

Both men grimaced heavily at the mention of the family.

"It is a miracle that that family is still alive in spite of being more inbred than a colony of naked mole rats," muttered Charlus. It looked as if he was trying his utmost to fight off the nausea. "Dorea would know. They are her, I think third cousins twice removed or something like that, but they are all too close – if you catch my drift. Only Dorea's great-grandmother married outside the nearest available cousin."

Hadrian involuntarily exclaimed, "YUCK!" in disgust, horrified at the idea of even very remotely being related to those abominations.

Charlus nodded sympathetically. "A quick-tip, dear grandson," he added. "Never, ever make the mistake of mentioning that lot around _any_ Black."

"I am going to bleach my brain, sir. You don't need to be worried about that."

"Just give me the way you do it if it succeeds, okay?"

The others just snorted.

* * *

The three returned to Hogwarts through the Room of Requirement just before dinner. They separated there. They didn't want to be a trio as they were during their years with Ron.

Since classes always were optional after the exams – particularly because the NEWTS and OWLs were always going on beyond the intra-school examinations, nobody availed themselves of the wealth of knowledge that the teachers had to share within the last few days. So the simple matter of three students not being seen during the day wouldn't cause the same stir as it would during term.

The teachers missing this fact did not necessarily mean that everyone else would miss it as well. Particularly within the House of Gryffindor, three boys had observed the absence keenly, as they were working up their courage for a confrontation. Even the Hands who came through within twenty minutes of each other and about half an hour before Remus, having planned the murders of the Carrows, didn't spot the impending conversation brewing among the other three till well after dinner.

James, Sirius and Peter were watching the three – and Remus in particular – with all the air of a pride of lions observing a herd of wild buffalos from the camouflage and shelter of the grass. They loitered around till Remus was done eating. Neither Jane nor Hadrian had remained behind, if only to further the 'not a trio' theme. The three boys then very discreetly followed Remus. It was an ingrained ability after all, was stealth. Just because their circumstances were different did not mean that they weren't pranksters. And they were very cautious pranksters. Getting caught was no fun at all.

They duly cornered Remus in the dormitory. The only good thing about it all was that Harry was there. He had caught the Marauders moving in on Remus, and so had followed him to the dorm.

"So, Remus," James started, shuffling his feet around as he looked around a bit shiftily.

"Yes?" Remus had inkling about what the discussion was going to be about. This confrontation on the twenty ninth of June, 1972 was starting exactly as it had done on the nineteenth of June 1973.

On one hand, he felt elated. Even though this confrontation had been pushed up by at least a year, it also led to some of the best times of his life. He wanted to dance a jig at the idea of the reformation of the Marauders.

On the other, he was crapping razor blades. The first year that the four boys had spent the first time around had been decorated with one prank after another. This time five boys had done the same. However, the friendship between them wasn't exactly as thick as it was the first time around, probably due to the presence of Harry. And it most certainly wasn't as thick as it was when the confrontation had taken place the first time around. On the whole, he was unsure as to what he was supposed to expect.

"Er...yes, well, Sirius, Peter and I have been thinking," James started again, casting about for words to speak things properly, when Peter glared and protested with an odd squeak ["Rat," thought Remus immediately]. "Well, Sirius and I have been thinking, anyway," James spoke again, beating about the bush.

"Perhaps if you get to the point, I will actually be convinced that either of you has been thinking at all," Remus mocked his once (and hopefully once more) best friend.

"Oh bugger," muttered James. He took a deep fortifying breath to gather all his courage before blurting out his piece very fast. "You are always ill around the full moon. You say that you have to perform a ritual. My mum knows many rituals and so does Sirius' grandfather. We found no such ritual as the one you told us. The only explanation is that you are a werewolf." Having exhausted his breath completely, he took another deep breath before asking more normally if curiously, "Are you a werewolf?"

Remus glanced at Hadrian, who promptly checked through the heads of the three marauders. It wasn't technically right to refer them that way yet, but that wasn't important at that moment. He had to get a profile on each of the three boys.

James was genuinely curious. He wanted to know what being a werewolf was like. He had read about werewolves in general, and it had not always been a glowing recommendation about the 'creature'. What he did know though, was that Remus was his friend. He wasn't like those descriptions of the werewolves he had read about. When he had first started suspecting that Remus was a werewolf, he had written to his father, asking about werewolves in general. He had replied with an explanation about what happened during the transformations. He had been unable to imagine the pain, and then he had looked at Remus Lupin and had felt genuine sympathy for the boy. Then he had felt respect for him and his resilience, given the way he was still working towards his education. He hoped to find a way to help Remus Lupin if he could. He passed the Legillimancer's test.

Sirius was awaiting the answer as well. At the point of time, Sirius in both timelines, had pitied himself quite a bit, and thought of himself as a bit of a rebel. It was a very odd combination for a self-image. At the moment, he was attempting to coalesce the images painted by his crude, coarse mother who had nonetheless given very vivid descriptions about werewolves with the boy who was his dorm-mate, and dare he say it, friend. Somehow, this boy looked too tame to be a werewolf. Then again, mother was insistent that werewolves were beasts that should be put down as soon as one saw them. When exactly had his mother been a person to agree with? If nothing else, he was going to be friends with Remus Lupin, werewolf or not, just to spite his mother. And if he was going to be a friend, then come what may, he bloody well was going to be the best friend possible. His motivation might have been terribly off, but Sirius passed the test as well – not that he knew it.

It was Peter though, that Hadrian was very interested to find out more about. Before he had been to the other place, he had been completely prepared to hate Peter. To him, Peter Pettigrew was the living embodiment of everything that was wrong with the world. Voldemort was the embodiment of evil, but Peter was the embodiment of all that was just wrong. His time in the other place though had told him something very different. Peter, foolish, bumbling Peter, was not really as bad as Hadrian **_wanted_** him to be, just so he could be easier to hate. Peter had hated his animagus form, but had rationalised it through his usefulness as far as pressing the knot on the Willow was concerned. He also liked being the one given the mission s that led to Hogsmeade. He was the one who brokered peace between the two mutts when Snape had been pulled back from Moony by James. All things said and done, Peter had been led astray, and he was very easy to be led astray.

At the moment, Peter was a bit afraid. He was afraid of werewolves in general. He was unsure whether or not he should be afraid of Remus. All the same, he was determined to put up a united front. The other two had decided to find out the facts and then support their friend anyway. He would not be found wanting. That was a sea change. Before, he would have only bothered to support Moony just so that he would be with the popular ones, his own motivations be damned. He too passed the test.

"And if I am?" asked Remus. There was a definite tremor in his voice. He was also trembling a bit. James, Sirius and Peter, as well as Hadrian recognised that.

James was silent for a moment, before he answered, "Then you are. It's not as if you are going to sprout fangs and fur and bite us and eat us, are you?"

Remus just stared at James, hard. Behind them, Peter whimpered.

"Oh, come on. You won't," declared Sirius. "You could have done that all year. So, I don't think you will eat us."

"Don't joke about it Sirius," James reprimanded his cousin eliciting a grumble from the Black boy as he muttered that he was only trying to support them both. Then turning to Remus he said seriously, "Look, even if you are, I bet Dumbledore knows. He won't let you transform around others. And werewolves don't transform on other days. Lily Evans and I researched it."

Both Remus and Hadrian blinked. James researched something. Lily Evans was _that_ friendly with James. Bloody hell! Somewhere someone had found the way to destroy all the nuclear weapons and Voldemort was showing true remorse. Exactly how much of a change were they bringing about?

"Werewolves only have acute senses and superior strength when they aren't in their wolf form. So if you are, you are superhuman when human, and otherwise you have...you have just got a furry little problem!"

Remus' eyes started tearing up a bit at that. While admittedly, James hadn't 'researched' anything the last time around, those were the same words he had used to describe Remus' 'problem'. 'Furry little problem', indeed.

The three boys took the tears wrongly. In panic, Sirius slipped into the Padfoot persona that always comforted Moony as Hadrian Harry could remember. "Look Remy! You don't cry, okay! We really haven't got a problem! We just wanted to let you know that we're still your friends! That's all, I swear! I am serious!"

"Of course you are," butt in Hadrian. "You have always been Sirius."

The sudden interruption derailed a panicking Sirius.

Peter narrowed his eyes. "You have known all along, haven't you?"

Deciding that it was important to not refute it, Hadrian told a little white lie. "Yes. I suspected after the first two months," he said with a shrug. "Remus was being a very poor liar."

"Why didn't you tell us?" protested Peter.

"It's his secret to tell!" Hadrian retorted hotly. "I worked it out just as you three did. Even Jane knows. Considering that I was in the company of a werewolf before the 1st of September, it wasn't so difficult to notice."

Peter huffed in annoyance.

"Well, coming back to the matter at hand," James said, interrupted the bickering, "we promise you, Remus Lupin to never, ever tell this secret to anyone else."

"You are not afraid of me?" Remus asked weakly. It was now a complete act. He really didn't fear them rejecting him now.

"I spoke in English, didn't I? Of course we aren't going to be afraid of you."

"But I am a Dark Creature!"

"You are?"

"..."

"We don't think so, Remus. A dark creature was what you were turned into! Who bit you, by the way?"

Remus glared at James half-heartedly, who winced. It was a very insensitive question.

"What my eloquent cousin wants to say is that assuming that you weren't bitten on purpose, neither you nor that other person is a monster. Otherwise that other bloke is."

Well, they had seen it all. A serious Sirius, covering for a fumbling James. Would wonders ever cease?

"Thank you!" The fear may have been an act, but the gratefulness wasn't. It was expressed on several levels. For one, they hadn't rejected him, as a small nagging part feared. And secondly, he had got his best friends back. Every bloody thing was alright with the world!

"No need to thank us, mate," Sirius replied. "I mean, when you have got people like Bellatrix Black and my mother in the family – hell, if you hail from the Black family at all, Moony the werewolf looks like a tame little lost wolf pup." Remus couldn't hide the grin from his face as he regained **_his name_**. For when he had lived before - truly lived, that is - he had been Moony of the Marauders. That grin was wiped off by Sirius' next sentence though. "Honestly, Bella could kill a family member and laugh about it. She could just as well be my boggart."

It was with tremendous force of will that Remus and Hadrian controlled their flinching.

"Well, you should be glad that you have better cousins, Sirius," James reminded his friend.

"Of course!" responded Sirius theatrically. "Right you are, Jamie. I've got Darrene and Eldric, as well as Andromeda. Hmm. That's not bad for a Black," he mused.

"Er...not to break your thoughts or anything, but why Moony?" asked Peter timidly.

"Well, we have to call him something, don't we? There are several ways to give a werewolf a nickname. Somehow 'one of the founders of Rome' just doesn't cut it," Sirius replied testily.

"We could always call him Silver," James suggested slyly.

"Or if he is a grey wolf, we could call him a silverback."

"That's a gorilla, you idiot."

"How about Howly?"

Remus wrinkled his nose at that.

"No?"

"How about...?"

"I like Moony perfectly well, thank you," Remus declared.

Sirius laughed a gleeful burst of his usual barking laughter. "That's it. Moony it is!"

"That's not fair! We didn't even get to contribute!" the other three protested. Sirius flipped them the bird.

"There is still a matter left to be addressed. I understand why Hadrian Jameson refused to divulge the secret. Now that we are in on the secret, we must ask, is there anything you have been doing that we can do to help?" asked James.

Hadrian nodded. "Moony is the ghost in the Shrieking Shack. You must have heard about it. He goes to the shack on full moon nights through the Whomping Willow. I have been covering his absences. Then Jane and I visit him the next day in the Dragon Lady's stronghold."

"Balls of steel, you have, if you willingly go there when not ill," muttered Peter.

Hadrian shrugged. "Moony's my friend. I've precious few of those, you lot for friends." The last sentence was added with a powerful compulsion charm. "And Jane doesn't, and shouldn't have balls!"

This led to a bout of suggestions regarding what they could do to help. The suggestions grew more and more outrageous, including a few to help Jane grow balls. Those were promptly slapped down. James and Sirius were at the loggerheads over hunting a centaur and catching a hippogriff for Moony to a shrill whistle to break the squabble threatening to break out, Hadrian drew their attention to himself. "You know that we shouldn't keep things this serious, don't you?"

"Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?" asked James.

"Are you thinking that I am suggesting what you think I am suggesting?" countered the time displaced incarnation of his son.

"Yes."

"Yes."

"We need a school wide prank."

"A grand one to celebrate Moony and the ending of the school year."

"One that will have McGonagall wanting to put us all in detention forever if we get caught."

"That's a deal."

And so insane family members and painful werewolf transformations were forgotten, just like that, as a new way to torment Hogwarts was hatched by the five first year boys. However, there was an important matter to be handled first.

"Sirius Black acknowledges the adage Hadrian Jamesson has used regarding friends, and wholly supports accepting it as the motto for us five."

"James Potter concurs, and asks Mr. Moony and Peter Pettigrew for their views on the matter."

With a gargantuan effort, Moony resisted calling James Mr. Prongs as he replied, "Mr. Moony agrees, though he respectfully submits that talking about oneself in third person is a bit poncy."

"Peter Pettigrew agrees on both accounts, and suggests we give ourselves a collective name."

"Hadrian Jameson thinks Peter Pettigrew is on the right track, and suggests something that works well with our predilection towards pranks."

"The Pirates?" suggested Sirius, only to receive haughty sniffs from the other four.

"The Havoc of Hogwarts," suggested Peter.

"Peter Pettigrew's suggestion has definite possibilities due to the alliteration, but is too long," James pointed out.

"Mr. Moony suggests the Marauders."

A small bout of silence engulfed them, before James and Sirius declared in unison, "Perfect!"

* * *

Poppy Pomfrey was busy for the following week as a seemingly contagious disease took over Hogwarts. Even the slightest skin-to-skin contact got people breaking into neon pink polka dots on neon green skin. If someone touched the other person's skin, they would be cured temporarily – till the next time they entered the Great Hall, that is. She had to spend her time curing broken appendages as people fell off stairs during the impromptu games of tag that the whole school, including teachers seemed to be playing to get rid of the hideous colouration marking their skins. She had never been that irritated.


	9. Summer 1972 - 1

**Summer 1972 – The Noble and Most Ancient Asylum of Black**

Dorea Potter nee Black took a sharp breath in as she summoned her best comportment and proper ladylike behaviour while readying to visit a place that she had not visited in quite some time. It was not out of anger directed towards the property's owner on his own part, for he was the only agreeable person. It was due to anger directed at his inability to control his family members. The imposing and forbidding property that was the Black Manor in the country, and the true seat of the House's power, was set on the outskirts of the Hexworthy settlement in Dartmoor. She still couldn't stifle the snort as she realised that some members of her maiden family were just that – hexworthy. And it was to subjugate those very people that she needed to get into her brother's ear.

Ever since Christmas, Dorea had been slowly and steadily working towards the goal that her grandson-but-not-grandson had set her. A few trips to the muggleborn registry inside Hogwarts, a few to the one in the ministry and a few to the muggleborn in question had helped prepare the groundwork for this pitch to her brother. The future had been terrible, as the One had shown her. On Dorea lay the onus of not only safeguarding the combined interests of the House of Potter, but also taking away Voldemort's greatest enforcer, lieutenant and most loyal and trusted Death Eater, Bellatrix Black. Dorea would be damned if she allowed her family to be swept in the tide or torn asunder, pandering to the whims and fancies of an insane necromancer.

Striding up to then gates, which had snakes poised to strike instead of spikes, she pushed it open, the wards respectfully admitting a daughter of the House. Dorea suppressed an involuntary shudder. She had received a none-too-kind letter from her nephew's wife for allowing the Potter name to be besmirched by letting her son get into Gryffindor like his father, and for not influencing the Potter enough for him to realise where the true power lied. Walburga was so extremely insane that she wondered what her nephew saw in her. And then there was Bellatrix. Somehow, there had been a bad switch. Bella should and could've been Walburga's daughter. And she shook those meaningless thoughts away as well.

A tap of her wand gave her entry into the small passageway which was littered with so many detection spells that she would classify as dark enough to make her shiver. But that was what the Black Family was all about. They had all had exacting standards regarding the people they found worthy enough to enter their abode. Dorea was spared the most terrible of the detectors and spells, fortunately.

"What can Kreacher do for Mistress Dorea?" a wizened creature bowing by her knee asked with a solicitous tone.

"Hello Kreacher. I have requested audience with the Lord and Lady Black. Please convey to my brother Arcturus that his sister Dorea has arrived."

"Mistress recognises Kreacher. Mistress is too kind. Master Black will be notified momentarily."

Dorea now hated the little vermin. Her grandson's memories had shown that he wasn't to be trusted. Loyalty to Regulus notwithstanding, he had conspired with Bellatrix and Narcissa to murder Sirius. While her grandson's friend had a valid point that Kreacher responded to the way he was treated in kind, and that he was better later, she couldn't find it in herself to fully agree. She waited till Estella and Arcturus sent for her or came to the sitting room themselves. The message she had conveyed to Kreacher was of particular importance. She had asked for audience with Lord Black, but had also called upon him having invoked the familial relationship during an appointment that was to be conducted during the time that Arcturus reserved for his business matters.

Kreacher popped in. "Master Black welcomes his sister, the Lady Potter and Daughter of the House of Black."

This was partly good. And it was also partly bad, mused Dorea as she nodded to the elf and walked to her brother's study. This meant that Arcturus was worried about her marriage. She needed to allay those fears.

"May I come in my Lord?"

"Please do enter, my Lady Potter. I would hope that you wouldn't need to ask permission to enter your brother's study, Dorea," replied Arcturus' voice gravely.

"Not during business hours, Milord Black."

"Well do come in then. We shouldn't delay matters, should we?"

"Thank you."

Dorea settled on a chair situated right across the one in which Arcturus sat, Estella seated on a comfortable, soft chair behind him. Having the Lady of the House in attendance was not only not the norm, but instead was so much of an aberration that Arcturus was often considered a hen-pecked husband in the most close-minded circles. But it was a norm that Arcturus was assiduous in not adhering to. Estella always gave very good advice, and he wasn't foolish enough to disregard that.

Dorea had prepared well for this meeting, but now that she faced her favourite brother, who would spoil her rotten, and who had protected her from being married off to that letch, Mulciber and had instead done the best by her, as much was in his power before he became Lord Black, words started to fail her.

"Milord Black...Arcturus..." she started, but faltered in a manner completely at odds with her upbringing and her preparation.

Arcturus frowned. "Doe, what is the matter? Is this about your marriage? Does Potter treat you right?"

"What? Oh! It's not about the marriage, Arcturus. Charlus and I have a very fruitful, and, I must say, a very loving matrimony. It's something else that has happened, recently. I...I had prepared a full set of documents to prove my point, but I don't know what to say, now that I am here. No. I know what to say, but I am not sure how to say it." And she really couldn't. She had come prepared to talk on the level of the Lady of one House as a representative to the Lord of another. But was there really a way to put things on the table easily, when the future of the family was in question? It also helped that by this show, Arcturus was more likely to treat this as a family matter. The man really loved his little sister.

Arcturus took a close look at his youngest sister, and called Kreacher. "Please bring something for Dorea to drink, Kreacher." And so it was that Dorea ended up fortifying herself with a glass of Ogden's Finest.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to tackle the problem head-on. "Arcturus, what are yours and Estella's views regarding the muggleborn?"

"Doe?" wondered Arcturus, slipping into the name he used in private for his littlest sister, unsure where this question was coming from.

"Please tell me, Arc. I have been worrying myself sick for the last few months. Your answer, and what I am about to tell you is the edge upon which the future and existence of the Houses of Black, Potter, and indeed many more is balanced."

"This is quite ominous Dorea," Arcturus replied harshly. "I want the truth, the complete truth, as of YESTERDAY!"

"But I can't!" Dorea protested. "I can't or I would have!"

"Dorea!" growled Arcturus.

"Arcturus, neither of you getting agitated and working yourselves up will help matters," cut in Estella for the first time. "We both know that unless it is serious, Dorea would never bother anyone this way, herself included. Just answer her question."

Arcturus looked at the two women incredulously. Seeing the pleading expression on his littlest sister's face, and the resolute one on his wife's, he huffed before he answered. "I have never thought much about the matter, Dorea. Father and mother had always maintained that muggles are unworthy of any contact from us wizards; that they are too crude and unworthy of magic, and that it is the magical world's greatest misfortune that we have to share our world with them. You know their extremist views regarding the muggleborn, and that they believed that the muggleborn are magic stealers who render good purebloods as squibs, and that they should therefore be put down. Personally, I think they are beneath us, but they are so beneath us that we shouldn't bother with them at all. As far as their blood doesn't mix with ours, and they know that they are unwelcome in our world, I wouldn't bother with them."

Estella nodded. Those were precisely her thoughts and she agreed with her husband fully. She was however very surprised when Dorea scowled and grimaced and then pulled out a sheaf of papers from her bag, all bound with a seal.

"Arcturus, do you trust the goblins with inheritance rituals and blood identity, magical identity and inheritance rituals?"

"I don't see where..."

"Please Arcturus. Just answer whether or not you trust the goblins on those two matters," Dorea interrupted him with an earnest expression on her face.

"Yes."

"Do you recognise this seal?" she asked pointing to the seal on the binder. Arcturus nodded a 'yes'.

"You know that this particular seal can never be forged?" Arcturus nodded again.

"Are you willing to accept my word along with the results enclosed in that docket, putting aside all your prior prejudices and beliefs?" Arcturus nodded again, with a hint of frustration this time.

"Thank you. I have been working my way methodically through magical genealogy. You will ask the question why. That question I will answer later. At the moment, just accept that it all links up with what I have to say. So coming back to my investigations, I kept wondering where the muggleborn, or as the motivation behind my investigations, and Charlus as well, call newbloods. I remembered what mother and father used to say, but unfortunately, it never made any sense to me. How do you steal magic? So I coaxed Minerva McGonagall and a contact of Charlus' in the Muggle Relations office. This person also deals with the new students coming in each year. I started off small, one year group that would attend Hogwarts at a time. For example, I started with the year group that starts this year, then the next, and then the one that came after, and so on. The data is for every muggleborn born from September 1961 to April 1972 – all ninety three of them. I got each and everyone to donate some blood and then obliviated them. I was working on the same belief – they are muggles, after all," she added a small white lie to make her story believable. "Please read it."

And so Arcturus opened what turned out to be Pandora's Box for the long held beliefs of the magical world. He copied the documents and handed the copy to his wife. Now that she had them where she wanted, Dorea quite enjoyed the expressions on the faces of the First Couple of the Black family as they changed from thoughtful frowns to shocked, open-mouthed gapes.

There was a long silence in the dreary room, broken intermittently only by the flickering of the flames in the sconces. Finally Arcturus looked at his sister weakly, and asked, "How?"

The weakness of Arcturus' countenance strengthened Dorea as she explained. "I focussed on the seven that are of Black descent and the three of Potter descent first. I went about tracing their genealogy. With the help of an enthusiastic elf or two, it was easy. Our world turns away the squibs, who, fearing for their lives, find refuge in the muggle world. They leave behind their magical origins and immerse themselves into that world. They often end up marrying muggles."

Estella made an observation that Dorea expected. "But each of the children yielded at least three families in their genealogy. There was at least one magical family name on either side."

"Very true, Estella," she answered. "When the squibs marry, a part of their families' magic associated with them and remains dormant, passing down through the generations to their progeny, is carried on. When finally they marry another of magical descent, the dormant magic of each side passed to their child is...activated? That was the best explanation I could come up with, though I can't see why only one family on either side, that is a background of only two magical families, can't do that. I was initially sceptical about the matter. But when all ninety three tests give the same results? I don't think I can ignore that."

"I can't ignore that either," agreed Estella heavily.

Arcturus staggered to his feet and poured himself another glass of firewhiskey. "We have been pushing away our own kin?"

"Yes. It is quite evident." Another silence followed.

"What do you plan to do with this information, Dorea?"

"Charlus intends to make it a law for the customary introduction to include these tests. I have my misgivings, but I mostly agree. If push comes to shove, we intend to release this information. But we aren't sure about the repercussions."

Arcturus turned around sharply to look at her. "What do you mean?"

"I am not sure what way the pureblood contingent will react to this news. You know how much I detest the arrangements that families use to trade of sons and daughters. What's to stop them from using the newbloods as politically expedient pawns? On the other hand, what if they are considered threats?"

"Why would they be considered threats?"

"You did read the document completely, didn't you? It also contains their raw potential readings. Didn't you see how many of them are as strong as, or stronger than, pureblood children of the same age? It turns out that the magical essence carried through the blood not only remains dormant, but also assimilates the strengths of the non-magical parts of their heritage, so that when finally a witch or wizard is born, they end up with the strengths inherited from both sides!"

That sent Arcturus back to the document post-haste. He read it thoroughly this time, and the sinking feeling returned with a vengeance. "What happens now, Doe? Why did you ever set your mind to this?"

Estella was observing the exchange and felt compelled to intercede on behalf of her sister-in-law. "Arcturus, Dorea only followed the spirit of inquiry. The tenets of the House of Black have never forbidden or looked down upon that. Dorea simply followed up on something that people had forgotten or not thought about. Isn't that why the House of Black also has proud Ravenclaws amongst its members?"

"No. You misunderstand me. Why? Why did this particular matter catch her fancy?"

"I am glad you asked that. Last year Charlus and I met someone who I thought was just a fable for so long."

"Who was it?" Arcturus eagerly asked.

"The Master of Death," Dorea answered, simultaneously raising her hand to stop the protests that were about to escape from Arcturus' and Estella's lips. She dug into her bag yet again, and retrieved a box. "Are you willing to give me an Unbreakable Vow to not disclose what I have told you about this person without his, Charlus' or my leave?"

"Dorea," Arcturus started in a patronising manner.

"To hell with it, Arcturus!" snapped Dorea. "I have very good reasons why I am making such a demand! I know well who this person is. This person is the friend of both our Houses and the muggleborn as well. I was just as sceptical about this, till he gave me proof – irrefutable proof – to convince me about the veracity of his claims. The Vow, please! This is more important than anything that either of us has ever committed to in our lives!" Dorea was fairly incensed. She expected Arcturus to be difficult to convince, but she was not happy about that at all.

"If you can prove that what you say is true, I am willing to give you a Vow," Arcturus challenged.

"So will I," Estella chimed in.

Dorea was fuming. The little berk had most certainly anticipated that. She drew the Resurrection Stone out of the box.

"Do you recognise this, Arcturus? He lent me this for the very purpose of convincing you."

Arcturus was well-versed in the myths of the magical world and had once been on the quest of the Hallows himself. However, he had given it up as a bad job, and better sense had prevailed. He was aghast and astounded in equal parts when he saw Dorea hold the Stone he so coveted calmly.

"Where did you get that?"

"As I said, it was lent to me by the Master of Death."

"I want you to keep that with me now! I claim it as the property of House Black!" declared Arcturus – his eyes alight with madness and malicious greed.

Dorea clutched at the stone tightly and slapped her other hand on the table to draw her brother's attention. "As I said, he lent it to me. He ** _is_** the Master of Death. **_It is his property, not of House Black!_** "

"You would stand against me?"

"The person I talk of is as valuable to me as James, Darrene and Eldric, Arcturus. He is more valuable to me than _my magic_. Even if you snatch it away from me, he can and will call it back, so back off!" Dorea harshly commanded. She never needed to raise her voice, for her anger was a deterrent enough. She was a woman of a carefully even disposition most of the time, but anyone trying to run roughshod over her or anything that she held dear got a glimpse of the fiery temper that each Black inherited unfailingly, but always held back as fuel for their magic when the situation arose. She turned the stone in her hand thrice over and summoned her parents. The two siblings talked for a while with them.

"Do you have your proof, Arcturus, Estella?"

"Yes."

And so, with Estella as the bonder for Arcturus and Dorea, and Arcturus the bonder for Estella and Dorea, the Lord and Lady Black swore to never divulge the matter of discussion to anyone without the consent of Lord and Lady Potter, or the Master of Death, unless under duress. Since they were unlikely to end up in duress, Dorea accepted that addendum to the Vow she had determined. They also vowed to never use the information against the aforementioned people. They also promised silent support to the bill that Charlus wanted to introduce as a law. The last Vow was that they would take Dorea's suggestions under advisement.

It was only then that Dorea heaved a sigh of relief. Now that Arcturus and Estella were on board, the House of Black could at least be persuaded to completely shun Voldemort, if not to provide aid and support to the kids. "I am sorry that I shouted at you, Arcturus. But...there were a few more things that he told me, all of which have since been verified."

"Is that why you waited for more a year before finally telling me about this person?"

"Yes."

"Well, bring it on. I have had enough shocks today to not be truly surprised by anything anymore."

"It is about this Voldemort."

Estella looked at her sister-in-law sharply. "What about him?"

"The House of Black has to at the very least be completely neutral **_and_** has to declare any member of the House joining him an Oath Breaker."

"Why?"

"Well, I will just say it straight out, given that there is no easy way around it. The Master of Death showed me the future as it will be if the Voldemort thing is allowed to take foothold within our country."

"That upstart who's been attempting to make a name for himself with sporadic attacks?" asked Estella.

"There is a reason why people are not afraid of him yet. Do you remember that there was a march of black robed people on Diagon Alley on Christmas Eve?"

"Yes."

"In the possible future that The MoD showed me, more than a hundred people had died in that attack. Voldemort used it as a way to draw attention and started off with his pureblood rhetoric. He will claim to be _Lord_ Voldemort and is supposedly the Heir of Slytherin. He is a Parselmouth. He doesn't care about anyone but himself, and most certainly not for the pureblood agenda – which I have just shown the fallacy of to you. He is not Lord anything. He has a muggle father and was born through rape. He was at Hogwarts during my time. His true name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, the son of a muggle, Tom Riddle and Merope Gaunt. He was the one that set the Basilisk loose on Hogwarts, an episode that ended with a death and the expulsion of Rubeus Hagrid. He marks his pureblood followers with one of his own making. He used his pureblood followers to decimate other pureblood families."

"And that affects us how at the moment?"

Dorea could have screamed in frustration, so instead she collected herself and answered, "Tell me Arcturus, you are conversant in French, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Translate Voldemort then."

"Flee from Death, not accounting for the bad grammar. He is a necromancer then?"

"Yes. Much worse than that," Dorea replied tersely. "It's the worst magic ever invented for immortality."

That comment caught the older couple short. "The only thing that bad is...SURELY NOT?"

"Yes."

"You don't mean...?"

"The answer to the question is yes."

"I have to ask it. Horcruxes?" ventured Arcturus.

"Yes. The Resurrection Stone was set into the ring of Salazar Slytherin. It was one of two that have yet been destroyed. The other was the Diadem of Ravenclaw."

"Multiple Horcruxes," Estella whispered harshly, as she eyed the stone resting innocently on the table in disgust.

"Yes."

"What else?"

"In that future, the House of Black accepts the petitions by the Houses of Lestrange and Malfoy to join the House of Black through Matrimony between Rudolphus Lestrange and Andromeda Black, and between Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black respectively. Andromeda marries a good man against her parents' wishes..."

"Is he a good man?"

"Yes."

"May I have the name?"

"I want your word that you won't react badly."

"The name please, Dorea," Arcturus demanded.

"A muggleborn who goes by the name of Ted Tonks," Dorea answered with some trepidation.

"Not on my watch, she won't!" exclaimed Arcturus. Reading about the blood magic tests and supporting the law Potter intended to instigate was one thing. Allowing such a scandal was completely another.

"And I will support her every way I can, Arcturus, you fool! Her daughter through the marriage becomes the first metamorphmagus born in our family in two hundred and fifty years! She becomes the true magical scion of the House of Black!"

Arcturus was aghast as he heard this. A mudblood's spawn... and then again the man, Tonks was not truly a mudblood, was he?

Dorea continued with her tirade. "Bellatrix therefore marries Rudolphus Lestrange. All the Lestranges and the Malfoys bear the mark of Voldemort, tying their lives, magic and souls to him!"

"Above and beyond their loyalty to the House of Black?" hissed Arcturus. "How dare they? They bowed to a half-blood?"

"Yes."

"What about the other members of this family?"

"My son, James, marries a muggleborn in his year. A bright girl she is. She is descended from the Gamps, Friedmann – a German pureblood family, Marchbanks and Rosier families."

"That is a respectable lineage," Arcturus commended. His tone still held disapproval. The future Lady Potter would be a mud- a muggleborn. This was going to take some time.

"She is, even now, more powerful than both Lestrange brothers _combined_ ," Dorea answered with a smirk. "They are only good enough for killing and as cannon fodder."

Arcturus' eyes widened at that. An eleven-year-old muggleborn was more powerful than two adult pureblood wizards? This was a development that he would have to keep an eye on. "What else?"

"Charlus, the twins and I are murdered in 1977. By this time Sirius will have completely rejected his Black Heritage, and we will have adopted him into the House of Potter. The reason will be that Sirius will reject the doctrine and the pureblood propaganda. Walburga ends up torturing Sirius for not joining the Death Eaters, and Sirius escapes from Grimmauld Place."

"It gets that bad?" For all his beliefs, Arcturus did love his family.

"Yes. James and Sirius become as close as brothers. James will name Sirius the godfather to my grandson. However, a prophecy comes into play, making my grandson the one destined to destroy the Dark Lord Voldemort. James and his family are betrayed, and Sirius is illegally incarcerated on that charge. The ones behind this move will be Lucius Malfoy, who has designs on the Black family wealth already, and most of the pureblood contingent. Sirius escapes a few years later from Azkaban, by which time Orion and Walburga are already dead, to protect his godson, whom he names his heir. Two years later Bellatrix murders him, having conspired with Kreacher and the Malfoys."

Estella gasped and placed a hand on her mouth as Arcturus' face settled into an angry frown.

"Do you intend for me to name your grandson the Heir?" he asked testily.

"No. I want Sirius protected. Remember, he was the closest thing to a father left for my grandson."

And so it was. Grasping at straws, Arcturus asked, "What about Regulus?"

"Regulus initially buys into the pureblood supremacist-terrorist doctrine, if only to please his parents, but he becomes the first to discover the Horcruxes and sets himself against the Dark Lord. He dies in an attempt at retrieving one of them to present them as evidence. Two more of the Horcruxes are entrusted to Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix, respectively."

"That kills the House of Black!"

"No. Andromeda's grandson-to-be becomes my grandson's godson and heir, when my grandson is but seventeen. Andromeda's daughter and son-in-law are again murdered by Bellatrix. Eventually it transpires that a shard-sliver of the ruptured soul is attached to my grandchild and his death is how Voldemort wins, decimating both the Houses of Black and Potter."

Silence reigned again as Dorea made this pronouncement. Every good member of the House of Black was going to be murdered by Bellatrix or die at the hands of Voldemort. The proud House would be brought to its knees before it would be beheaded by its own members.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"The Master of Death has a message for you, Arcturus. You are at this point on the brink of making the first mistake – accepting those matrimonial petitions. He said, and I quote, "The Houses of Lestrange and Malfoy will be decimated by my hand in due time. Should the daughters of Black join the Houses, it will be my unfortunate duty to exterminate them once the marriages are legally ratified." I don't know why you would accept those two families."

Arcturus was angry but was not showing it. "Does he want to exterminate the rest of the Blacks as well?"

"No. He is, even now, actively working to protect Sirius, Regulus, Andromeda and Narcissa. He believes Narcissa's only mistake was being enamoured with her husband and accepting his word as the gospel of truth. However, he doesn't want to have to protect them all within the boundaries of the House of Black."

"Does he have any suggestions?"

"He does. Sirius breaking away from the House of Black made Regulus leery of approaching him and owning up to his mistake. He wants Sirius, the rightful Heir of the House of Black to be secure here. With Walburga on the loose, that is not possible. Remember, Sirius is my grandnephew and will be treated as a son of the House of Potter if things escalate to where they did in the possible future. But that may not be necessary if you place Walburga into solitary confinement at the first available instance of her troubling Sirius. As for the other delinquent, Bellatrix, he requests permission to change her mind. He shall not, under any circumstances, hurt her, but he will not have a member of the House of Black whoring herself out to the half-blood pretenders followers, in every sense of the term."

The older couple grimaced at that. How had their House fallen to such disrepute? "Doesn't he have any such demands from you Dorea?"

"He does. He wants the House of Potter to go Grey."

That alone rocked the Blacks to their heels. "Grey! He wants you to go grey?"

"Yes. He accepts the need for tradition in some cases, but is a staunch opponent of the discrimination that abounds as it is the basis on which so many Dark Lords are coming up. A middle way is the golden way, apparently."

Changing their outlook was just as difficult for the Potters as accepting the information was for him.

Arcturus was quiet for a long while. What he had heard that day had the ability to destroy their world as they knew it.

"The House of Black will be wary of Voldemort," he said finally. "I will talk to Walburga, and Sirius and Regulus, as well as Andromeda." He heaved a deep sigh. "What have you gotten me into Doe?"

"Frankly I don't know what I am into myself, half the time," Dorea responded wryly. "If that however, saves my maiden and married family, it is something that I shall wholeheartedly support."

"Indeed," sighed Estella. "Indeed."

"What about Bellatrix?"

Arcturus walked to the window and gazed over the moor. "Can you, and will you vouch for his credibility?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"There is a reason. I can't share anymore about him than I have shared with you, Arcturus. I have made a Vow to him, and forgive me, but if the Vow protects my children and my family – and that includes Sirius, Regulus, Andromeda and Narcissa, and if she can be changed, even Bellatrix – it supersedes any that I may make to the Lord Black. It was the only reason why I would have believed him and given him the Vow."

"I see." He returned his wavering gaze back over the moors that Sir Doyle had made famous – not that he knew it. "Tell your husband that he should wait for a while with his bill. I am going to move one of my own, banning all kinds of Marriage Contracts. He can bring his bill a few months after that. I will be conducting my own investigations in the interim."

Dorea sat astounded. She had hoped for the Blacks to stay neutral at best. What Arcturus had done and promised was way, way, way beyond her wildest expectations. Essentially, Arcturus had just taken a stand against Voldemort, even though he still believed the pureblood supremacy doctrine to a great extent.

* * *

Bellatrix Black was in Diagon Alley looking across for new dragonhide boots, when a young girl bumped into her. She snarled inarticulately and turned to see that it was the bushy brown-haired first year mudblood that had put her into the tribe-lands of the half-breed horses. Drawing her wand on the now running little bitch, she raced after her. She never saw that she was being drawn away from the crowded areas to a very secluded one. So the three stunning spells that felled her were completely unexpected.

Hadrian, Mad-Eye, Remus and most especially, Jane looked dispassionately at the witch sprawled on the floor of the PTIEC.

"Tell me again, why are we saving this bitch?"

"She is just a good person for Janie to practise her mind-breaking skills on, Made-Eye," Remus replied, not taking his eyes off the woman who had killed his wife – who was this very woman's niece.

Mad-Eye only grunted in response. It was a fair point.

So Jane set to work. It was her way of working past the experience of the torture she had suffered at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. She set a pensieve by her side and shackled Bellatrix to a bed, before slowly drawing out a copy of every memory, sweet and foul – given the differences in disposition, most were foul for Hermione. Once this process was done, she revived Bellatrix.

"You mudblood!" shrieked the already slightly deranged woman. "How dare you? I shall have your hide for this! I'm sure that will make for better shoes than dragonhide!"

Hermione just blinked and looked back at the shackled witch placidly, before she smiled benignly. "OBLIVIATE!" she almost shouted, killing all the presence of the woman who would end up as Bellatrix Lestrange.

As the eyes of Bellatrix Black turned blank and unfocussed, Hadrian muttered, "We have just done a Dumbledore and helped redeem this insane woman."

It took several hours for the deed to be done. At the end of the day, they had merely obliterated the essence and presence of Bellatrix Black as she originally was. Jane was tired by the time they got to the completion of that stage.

When they all retired for the day, with Moony and Mad-Eye returning to their respective homes, Hermione was biting her lip. She wanted something Harry could see, but she was obviously loath to speak it. Drawing his best-friend and girlfriend into a hug, Harry softly asked, "What is it, love?"

"Bellatrix," she answered timidly.

"Are you worried?"

"Yes."

Harry drew her tighter into the hug.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"May I stay with you tonight?"

Harry looked at her intently and then nodded. "Yes. Don't worry, Hermione. I love you. I always have. I know that in this form she can't do anything to us, but I promise you that I won't let anything happen to you." He then proceeded to kiss her.

It was a part of why Hermione loved him. He always knew what she needed. Opening her mouth slightly and pushing her tongue to meet his she deepened the kiss, her apparent age notwithstanding. She _**was**_ a twenty-year-old woman, mentally.

* * *

The Aurors were perplexed. Bellatrix Black had disappeared and the House of Black had raised a huge hue and cry over it, only for the girl to return a week later. Her statement was as perplexing as her sudden disappearance and her just as sudden return.

"I am tired of the insanity and supremacy that my parents espouse. Unless I find a good enough reason to believe that the muggleborn are inferior to us in anyway, I refuse to accept that doctrine," she had quite firmly stated. It had led to the girl's family getting a blood identity ritual performed on her, as well as admitting her for spell-damage in St. Mungo's. The results of both actions deeply disappointed them. It was Bellatrix alright, just she was different, and somehow, sane. The family had not escaped without a threat delivered by the woman, though.

"If you try to force me to believe your discriminatory propaganda, believe me, I shall break away from the House of Black!"

It had made for very awkward conversations.

For Arcturus and Estella, however, this was all the proof they needed to believe Dorea. Bellatrix's only statement made to them, immediately on return, was, "The Master of Death sends his regards. The first of your two major mistakes with regards the Daughters of House Black has been corrected."

Unknown to Voldemort, he had just lost what constituted half his power.


	10. Summer 1972 - 2 - Voldemort's Dol Guldur

**Summer 1972 – II – Voldemort's Dol Guldur**

Harry Potter and the Potter Universe are not owned by us. The plot is. Reviews and **_constructive_** criticism will be appreciated and the latter will be incorporated. Flames will be doused by ignoring them. A special thanks to all readers, reviewers, followers and those who have marked this story as a favourite.

Story has been slightly reconstructed. The plot holes almost rivalled canon. Anti-Snape vendetta has also been slightly mellowed down. All geographical destinations are circa 2016.

DE: Death Eater

PTIEC: Planning, Torture, Interrogation and Execution Centre

Harry/M-H/ Hand/Hadrian and Jane/Hermione/F-H are the same people.

* * *

The dawn of the 14th of July, 1972 saw the Planning, Torture, Interrogation and Execution Centre (PTIEC) for short engaged in a hubbub of activity. After three weeks of careful planning once school had let out for summer, the trans-temporal strike team was ready for a first attempt on this place that Mad-Eye had found in his searches. Charlus and Dorea, and Remus, were the mission co-ordinators. With the latter, it was a little problematic. Remus wasn't happy at all that 'his cubs' were going out on a mission, while he wasn't around to help them. What really stuck in his craw was the fact that he would need parental permission. The fact grated on the nerves of the thirty eight-year-old in a twelve-year-old boy's body, particularly because there was no disputing that fact.

Dorea was in a very precarious mood. She would be spending the days alternating between the Potter Hall, and the PTIEC. And she wasn't happy about the task being delegated to two kids at all. Charlus had had to calm her several times, but that couldn't stop her from worrying. It was weird – she was probably the only woman in the world who was worrying about her grandson, and granddaughter-in-law, who was the same age as her eldest son, all at the tender age of forty nine.

"Do you have enough food with you?" she asked Hadrian while giving him a hug before proceeding to hug Hermione as well.

"Yes Gran."

"Have you got the clean water bottles with the refilling, filtering and purifying charms?" Refilling charms only worked for a certain number of 'refills'. They were basically switching charms that worked by exchanging the air in the container with whatever liquid the charm was applied to directly from the source. They were also constrained by the distance to the source. They had to be renewed whenever the container was moved 'out of range'.

"Yes Grandmother Potter," Jane replied. "We have also learnt rock boiling, just in case." Dorea smiled at the girl and kissed her cheek.

Hermione found this very endearing. Dorea was worried, just as Molly Weasley had been. But instead of dissuading and impeding them and treating them like kids (though in their current form, they were kids), she was confident about their abilities. She was, instead, ensuring the practical aspects of their mission. Molly Weasley was a good woman, but her place was admittedly not among the fighters but on the sidelines, even if she could probably turn into a Mama Bear to defend her children. Dorea knew when to assert her position, and when not to.

"Have you got a full stock of salves, ointments, potions and draughts?"

"Yes Milady," was the grumpy and mulish response from the Auror. Alastor could have rolled his eyes. He was Alastor Moody, 'constant vigilance' fanatic extraordinaire. Of course he would have taken care of these things!

"Well I am placing the responsibility of two of my kids in your hands, so I should rather hope that you do have the right equipment!"

Alastor only grunted gutturally in response to that. He wondered what people were doing, lecturing _him,_ of all people, about the virtues of being prepared. He then glared at the woman for good measure. Jane and Hadrian shook their heads at the little drama.

"Prongslet, and Janie," Remus said in a subdued manner, "I know that the mission won't kill or hurt you terminally. But just take care, alright? I am having a bad feeling about this."

Alastor looked at Remus quizzically. "Why?" The man had learnt to take Lupin's instincts into account rather quickly the last time around. The wolf always seemed to look out for any sort of danger for itself or its pack.

"You know how I could sniff out danger? This is much worse than that. It's as if everything that can be wrong is wrong in that place – far beyond the necromancy. Most of the times when I said it before, I had an instinct, which the wolf hounded out more about. Right now, the wolf is very unhappy that you have to go somewhere that bad. I can't explain it any better than that."

Moody nodded. "We'll be careful. We've got our blood-bonded wands as well." These had proven to be stronger and better, but were kept secret. They didn't need the Ministry on their case. "You are on coordination and protection duties on this side?" he sought to confirm.

"Yes."

"Good." He turned to his companions and explained, "Strangely enough, at the moment, the magical governments pertinent to the region are in agreement and are not Britain's friends. We will be taking a portkey to Sfika in Greece. It is close enough to the border. The muggle governments disallow anyone from entering or leaving their way, and we needn't give the magical one any reason to sniff too much around us. We cross over under disillusionment, and then take another portkey as tourists. We will be under glamour charms. You two and I will be a father and two children group looking for a day in the woods. We will need to be clean and clear of any form of monitoring spells or tracking. You know the translation spells and the monitoring transference?"

"No need for either, Mad-Eye," replied Hermione as she handed him a small earring. "I call this the Babel fish ring. We wear it after speaking to it first in any language of our choice. When we land up in Greece, it will translate for us, and what we speak will be translated and spoken in our own voice. We'll be able to pass into the People's Republic of Albania easily enough, once Harry puts us under his Dead-Sense spell. We won't be registered in anyway, magically or by the muggles. Even if the authorities try to tag us, neither tech nor magic will take hold."

Mad-Eye took the ring, spoke to it and wore it, before grinning appreciatively at Hermione. Dorea beamed at the girl. She was proud of the woman – for a woman she was – who would one day be her granddaughter-in-law, if everything went well. She didn't know the girl it seemed James would go on to marry, but she had a very steep cliff to climb if she was to impress her as much as Jane did. And then Dorea sighed to herself. She was thinking about the girl who would be the mother of the grandson that had fallen for this little brainy beauty. It was so terribly convoluted.

A small 'ping' sound was emitted by the band on Mad-Eye's wrist. "It is time," he declared, and held out a soap case. Hadrian wrinkled his nose at Mad-Eye as they touched the portkey and disappeared in a whirl of colours.

"I am worried Charlus," Dorea said as she clung to her husband for a little support. She hated it when the children went off on a mission. She was also not looking forward to talking to Rose about it – not because she didn't agree with the woman, but because both women kept worrying about the children and could quickly paint increasingly grim situations. Rose and Dorea, along with Remus were going to man the control room as it were.

Rose, a homemaker, was now an agent for Harry and Hermione in a way. She was the one, who in reality had shared the duties of meeting up with the families of the ninety three newbloods with Dorea. She had taken greater interest after finding out that her immediate ancestry had descended from magical families. Directories were easy for her to use. She travelled in the places closer to where the Evanses lived, while Dorea apparated to the places far off. During such times when the children seemed to be home alone, a Potter elf was tasked with their safety and care. It was also she who tracked down Alice Shepherd and Steve Granger. It was Dorea who acquired their blood. Her favourite little girl along with her Darrene was indeed descended from the Dagworth-Grangers, the magically dormant family of Shepherd from Helmsley, and von Ornstein from the erstwhile land of Prussia.

It was also funny how she worked with Rose and still didn't know Lily well at all. Well, that had to be rectified. She had to get to know her grandson's mother, and also try to not compare her with Jane. Lily had lived a sheltered life, compared to what Jane had been just before she had been deposited into this time. Jane had also been nineteen.

It was easy to get close with Remus, from his perspective, again. To be truthful, she had been initially repulsed by his affliction; but one frown from Janie had cured her of that. Dorea often found him intuitively saying things to comfort her or acting instinctively. It was obvious that the child had known her. Even if that wasn't the case, Harry had said that James and Lily should have trusted him and Sirius trusted him. And beyond all that, **_Harry and Jane_** trusted him, and he considered them as his own in the time they came from. There was no other proof or certificate that she needed. He was a good boy, and she started to ensure that she made it easy for Remus to fall into old patterns by interacting with him as his own person.

"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter?" called Remus, interrupting her thoughts. "Are you ready for setting up transmission at the Manor?"

"Yes of course, Remus," answered Charlus heavily. He was worried as well. He apparated over to the Manor and then proceeded to set up the transmission screen in his study. "Potter transmitting and receiving," he called out.

"PTIEC transmitting and receiving," confirmed Remus. Fifteen second later, a 'ping' sounded out. "Watching Wolf transmitting and receiving, over!" he called out.

"Master, F-H, M-H transceiving," replied Moody's gruff voice. "Sfika check point reached. Translator device works."

Remus noted that down. The Babel fish ring hadn't had a real field test before the mission, beyond a small dip in the lake to try Mermish. There was nobody else to actually talk with in another human language, however.

A few minutes later, Hermione's voice filtered over the link. "Dead-Sense spell works perfectly; over."

Remus noted that down as well. The Dead-Sense spell had been tested in Hogwarts before, and even Dumbledore or the ghosts hadn't sensed them. The animals in the Forbidden Forest though had detected them when they got too close. This though was the first actual field implementation.

There was no further transmission for the next hour and thirty minutes as the three trekked towards the Albanian border. Their destination was the town of Bilisht, about fourteen kilometres from their Greek point of landing. During this time, Remus wrote down all the details of the ring and the spell. The Dagworth-Granger Grimoire was being resuscitated and the ring was the future Hermione Granger's first contribution to it. The spell would of course, go into the Potter Grimoire. Charlus had also filed a patent for the ring in lieu of the Grangers. This way the money would go to the accounts as well. The patent would be transferred to Hermione Granger when she would be born.

"M-H calling; Bilisht checkpoint reached; over."

"Watching Wolf receiving; situation is a go. No magical presence detected in one point five kilometre radius area; over."

There was a ten second pause. Then Jane sounded out, "Portkey activation triggered; ETA T+ twenty five second."

Remus checked over the destination. It was fuelled by magics tied to the watches worn by the three; but the new monitoring device which Remus was using was better than even the futuristic devices and radar devices he had seen in films in the nineties. It was again shared by the Grangers, Potters and Lupins. These devices would be available for sale as soon as Voldemort was permanently taken care of. The Houses had to be on firm footing for the time thereafter. These spells and inventions were the most legitimate ways to do so. Just as the portkey was triggered, Rose also arrived.

"I missed them, didn't I?" she asked morosely.

"They just reached Albania," Dorea replied. "Busy morning, was it?"

"You can say that. Petunia got ganged up against by Dennis and Lily. Thankfully, Matthew's looking after the kids. He has taken an extended weekend." With that she settled into a chair as the view changed to the forest.

"Master speaking; code four active – communication channels switched to conference mode; over."

This was an important aspect of the device. Now all seven of them were in touch and could see and hear everything going on at the mission end.

"It's dreary," commented Rose.

"It's horrible," Jane's voice came over the link. "It feels like we are approaching a massive, thoroughly unpleasant entity."

"We are still a kilometre from the outskirts of the problem area..." Mad-Eye replied. His grimace was evident in his voice and tone.

There was a long stretch of silence as the three trudged along through the forest. From their vantage point, the handlers could see the three crowding together as they neared their destination. The views, which were transmitted through the same magics on the faux glasses the team wore as they had on the communication mirrors, were contorting to a very narrow field as the three moved closer together. Remus quickly switched to the radial tracker and gasped.

"Halt team! Massive magical field detected! Proceed very carefully! Dark detectors are going berserk! Several magical beings are in motion randomly."

This was a problem for the monitoring device. It was modelled to be similar to, and inspired by, heat sensors. But the isolation depending on magical power hadn't yet worked. In theory, a very large swarm of pixies could give a similar signature as a witch or a wizard due to concentration and proximity. What the monitors were seeing at the moment was an almost overpowering field, right in the direction that the field team was heading.

"Harry! Janie! You may have to adjust the detectors," cautioned Dorea fearfully. She too had seen the engulfing field which was reaching out from its area of concentration. The three couldn't be sensed, but the ambient magic could easily overpower their own, nullifying the spell. It was that powerful. That would be disastrous. "You are in the correct direction."

"It's all silent, eerily silent," Hadrian reported. "Get behind me, Mad-Eye, Jane." He couldn't be hurt by whatever was out there, so he was the human shield, as it were.

"Backs-to-backs Aurors!" ordered Mad-Eye. "Keep your eyes peeled!"

It was a good thing that they did so, because the very next moment, they were set upon by three werewolves. They were feral of course, and in broad daylight were hardly about to transform. But given the facts that they were there, were attacking that this wasn't the first such attack (Sasha Gorkov had tracked Mad-Eye down for quite some time), that they were certainly exposed and that the Dead-Sense spell had failed under the onslaught of magic, the team didn't even try to subdue them. Simultaneous barrages of silver took the three down quite efficiently.

This, however, seemed to be the sign for the terror within the area to decide that they were threats. A tremendous surge of magic burst forth, thoroughly disrupting all communications and the devices on their person.

* * *

Back at the PTIEC, the three monitors were panicking.

"What do we do now?" cried Rose. "We can't even see a thing, and I am sure that I heard screaming!" It was most obvious that she wouldn't be able to think of a solution. She didn't know magic the way the others did. Her solution would have been to attempt to call the non-magical authorities, and even she knew that even though it would seem horribly bigoted that her lack of magical knowledge or sense was a stumbling block for her, the truth was that everyone would be out of their depths.

Dorea didn't answer, but was frantically trying to twiddle with the switching runes to see if the communication could go back online. "Work, work, work, work, come on you stupid thing, just work!" she kept chanting.

Remus was simultaneously worried and calm. He was worried about Janie and Mad-Eye. The cub wasn't even human, if he so chose. He was also practically impervious. Janie and Mad-Eye weren't so. Janie was a bit lower on the supernatural totem pole than Harry was. Mad-Eye was pure human. It was also why he was sure that the cub was the last one standing.

Remus thought about the facts as they were and weighed them carefully. It was why he was sitting at mission control, as a brain sitting in a position where he could take decisions that would be difficult to take in the field owing to the field agents being unable to think straight. He had seen them take down three werewolves, and one of them, Alejandro Kolarov, was another of the Scandinavian Werewolf, Fenrir Greyback's 'son'. Moony had howled in triumph when that lot had been put down.

Harry was there, and out of the three, he was the one who could pull out something completely fantastic, but within limits. The first thing the cub would do was hide them. Mad-Eye and Jane had insisted that they would cast the Dead-sense Spell upon themselves. Harry had to have seen that they were compromised, so the first instinct would be to hide them all and take them all aside. Most probably he would try and attempt a solitary mission. That would be bad, somehow, Remus, and more importantly, Moony knew. The wolf was more attuned to instincts. Realising that he would be the one best suited to help, he declared, "I have to go there."

"Absolutely not!" snapped Dorea. "You may very well be a grown man in your mind, Remus, but communication is still a problem and you will have a problem contacting both sides, as will they and as will we. Stay put. Don't be absurd."

Remus' first instinct was to retort angrily, but Dorea was right. Splitting the available support wasn't the solution, though it was necessary to establish contact again. So he racked his brains for another solution. And it was, quite miraculously, a simple one which they were all accustomed to.

"Expecto Patronum!" he chanted. The silver wolf materialised in front of him. "Go to Harry, Hermione and Alastor and tell them to move away and retreat for the time being. Individual reconnaissance missions and curse-breaking and recapturing the outer areas will be better at the moment. Tell them to send a Patronus every ten minutes. Communication is down!"

The presence of the Patronus had also calmed the two ladies.

"What was that?" asked Rose, a bit too calmly.

"That was a Patronus. It can almost instantly communicate with them and also protect them if they are being surrounded by Dementors."

"That was clever, Remus," Dorea approved.

In Albania, though, the situation was really dire; really, horribly dire.

Mad-eye had only trespassed on the very outskirts of the area they were currently in. Voldemort had tied the life of the trees in the forest together in some really obscure way. His magic was the sentience which drove the reactions of that part of the forest. The best analogy was probably a beehive. The magic was the queen while all the living beings in the area were the workers.

Whether it was an illusion, or whether it was the truth, things looked horrible, quite literally. At first there were various sounds coming from all corners of the forest, almost as if it was readying itself to guard against the intruders that had come calling. That drove the three closer together, until Jane realised what was happening and threw up her shields and realised that Hadrian was calling out to her to do the very same. Their own senses were overwhelmed by this complex illusion. Evidently there were several ways to skin the cat. Together, they threw an all-encompassing shield over Mad-Eye and calmed him down. It took three minutes for the mad Auror to come to terms and get his grip on the situation.

It was at that time that Remus' Patronus arrived. The three hastened to comply for it was the correct way out.

But if they believed it was that easy, then they were thoroughly wrong. The land around them started to undulate of its own accord. The trees actually moved. Wherever they tried to move, their paths were blocked.

"We are trying, but we are blocked. If and when we get anywhere we will contact."

Harry's voice from the silvery Raven filled the three monitors with despair. At the very least they now knew that they were alive and at least somewhat unhurt. But not knowing was going to be very difficult.

"Send him another, Remus. Send him a Patronus and ask it to stay with him. I will send my own as well," Dorea proposed.

"I will do so as well." Charlus had returned to the PTIEC, unable to bear the long wait alone.

"We can try, but if there are Dementors or Lethifolds marked as protectors, the dark entity may react violently," Remus temporised.

"Are you talking about sending your silver wolf, Remus?" Rose asked. At his nod she further asked, "Can't they affect anything physically?"

"No. I understand what you are asking, but a Patronus can't provide anything more than onsite moral support to them."

"And those Demented and folds you talked about, they would be the opposite of the Patronus, yes? They will harm them? So if there is a question of them being harmed anyway, isn't it better to have them able to think at least?" Rose's voice had risen a bit, but her argument was more than valid.

"That is true."

* * *

As the trees seemed to converge upon them from all sides of the depression that the part of land they were standing on had become, they received a temporary respite when three Patronuses, Remus' wolf, a large stallion and a female elephant, were suddenly by their side. That was an excellent thing, because now their despair was offset by thoughts regarding ways to reverse this situation. Over the next fifteen minutes, the three fought against the forest, with Mad-Eye watching over and making suggestions and providing cover, as the two younger members performed the curse-breaking duties.

And again they made only very little progress. As soon as they stopped, the magical sentience would fight back and recoup what ground it lost. It was becoming worse and worse.

"I think, it is time to flex your 'Master of Death' muscles, Harry," Jane panted as she sat down in pure exhaustion.

That was true. They needed an extra something. Thanking The One mentally for caving in to his whining and allowing him to keep the Wand and Stone for so long as they still had Voldemort to deal with, Harry brandished the Elder Wand. Now, to be truthful, the wand was not anything special – not after the Hallows had been conquered by one person anyway. But the One had made it seem as if it was, in Harry's hands alone.

With renewed force and will, he retaliated. Curse after jinx after counter-curse after spell flew from the wand and drove the forest back inch by inch. The other two soon recovered enough to add their own. This time, Remus, who had been sent a Patronus telling him about the situation, sent his own suggesting the scorched earth policy. They were to deny the magic any space not by overriding it, but by claiming it as their own.

"Try the blood runes of material possessions," the cow-elephant suggested in Dorea's voice. "Rose says that anything that'd be most obvious will be most easily overlooked."

So Jane and Mad-Eye got down to that. Ensuring that it was a mixture of their blood and enriched with blood-replenishing potions, so as to throw off any attempt at tracking them through the blood by magical means by confusing said means with the combined magic of the mixture, Jane painted the runes upon every square foot and in all corners of a square foot that Harry cleared. Mad-Eye still kept cover, which was good, because he had to burn a tree which was now transforming into the Venomous Tentacula when they started threatening the possession of the land.

It was a tough fight. But by nightfall they had managed to claim a twentieth of the land. It was like capturing the highest peak of a mountainous warfare region. Not only would that be a massive morale booster, it was also strategically important. Of course, they had to hope that the darkness didn't reclaim the land not included before.

* * *

"That," muttered Jane tiredly, "was horrible."

They were sitting around the campfire. It had been a very hard day, and they were still unsure whether it was futile or not. They did not strategise well at all before they went in and attacked. It was chiefly based on Mad-Eye's reconnaissance, and therefore it was not without good preparation. However, they weren't ready to face a forest that fought back. They hadn't been prepared to fight a real entity that was incorporeal yet commanded everything that lived. Voldemort, the megalomaniac with a massive streak of overinflated self worth, was actually the God of that small patch.

"Have you even managed to reserve that part?" asked Matthew. The Evans parents had come to the PTIEC after Remus had gone home that night. Biffy the house-elf was keeping watch over their home.

Hadrian grimaced. "We have, a bit. We don't know whether that monstrosity spread elsewhere, however."

"We were unprepared was what we were," Alastor pronounced grimly. "I have been in this business twice over. I never encountered anything like this before."

"You said that you had destroyed the Horcruxes in an unconventional manner the last time," Charlus pondered. "Did that work this way?"

"No. It played on the mind of the person in contact as it fought to possess him or her, but beyond that, it couldn't affect the physical world this way."

"He got magic to become a being?" asked Rose, fairly afraid, flabbergasted, non-magical and therefore, logically. Obviously, that brought the conversation to a standstill.

"Good Lord!" swore Matthew softly, completely capturing the general sentiment.

"It might very well be," Harry answered. "It is fighting like one, as it is."

"Perhaps he has perverted a forest spirit?" suggested Lady Potter.

"Another possibility," accepted Alastor. "We don't truly know what we are dealing with. I am sure this is going to go into the second week."

"You have enough supplies?"

"Yes. Food might become a problem though. We might end up encountering dark creatures. I am not sure I want to eat those."

"What are you going to do?"

"We have got great practice the past year, gran Rose. We went for three days at a stretch without food and were also fighting with the bloody locket. It's not new."

"Yes, but you didn't have people caring for you or at least knowing your whereabouts then. We are there for you now. I am not sure whether those elves that help us can go that long a distance, but it would be great if they have a network of some sort. Of course, that compromises the operational security..."

Jane smiled widely at Rose. The woman had changed her outlook wildly after those first months. Now she was constantly getting them to improvise. Plus, she had touched upon her pet subject: elves. They were all changing, she realised. Rose, a woman who had no particular relation with the magical world beyond Lily, was now among those fighting to save it, and the rest of the world in her own way. Charlus and Dorea had already negated a lot of the ways Voldemort had breached the homes of newbloods and murdered them. Matthew was the one who procured the sort of help with his contacts that few others who knew both worlds would have.

Maybe they just had a real chance, after all.

* * *

"Can you levitate me over the forest?"

"What will that help you with?"

"We need a peripheral read."

"We can always walk around and have Remus check the concentrations. We did repair the trackers."

"What the hell are you two blathering about?" growled Alastor.

"We need to find out how much this...area...of Voldemort extends on all sides. I really wish there was the concept of magical resonance and standing waves like there is in longitudinal waves. We could just fire a spell at the general area and depending on the distance the reflected waves would form beats."

"I understand." Alastor did claim so, but he looked like he didn't. Hadrian and Jane only snickered.

"What we can do, though, is walk around, get Lupin to check as the lad said, and randomly claim parts. If it can think and fight back, it can be confused," the Auror hypothesised.

"Interesting," murmured Jane. She was already thinking several ways ahead, and this was very clever, she decided. If it wanted to be a beast, then they would fight it like a beast.

"That's all well and good," Hadrian cautioned, "but the more headway we make into this place, I fear we may eventually stumble upon something that will trigger _the_ Idiot's attention."

"Oh."

"We almost forgot the caster existed."

On that sobering thought, he walked towards the tent's exit and took up his position on the Night's Watch.

* * *

The next day, they decided to put Mad-Eye's plan into action. This time, both Jane and Alastor allowed Hadrian to cast the Dead-Sense Spell without protest. They had had a bad response already. It really wasn't about power. Hadrian had made a mistake in the spell construction (which they would later correct) that based the spell upon his personal magical presence. They encountered several creatures, but none were truly foul, and all were native to the region.

At the crack of dawn, they started nibbling away. Randomly taking away patches from the area seemed to work. The theory about it being a magical beast was almost too true. It tried to predict and lash out at the wrong place. It started behaving like a cornered animal and fought viciously. So they changed track and each of them nibbled away from three different places at the same time.

That day they had much better success. Where they had managed only a twentieth of the total area the day before, they had managed to claim twenty percent that day. That night Mad-eye made them craft a die for the rune set with a small tank-like structure near the handle to hold the blood mix. It would be easier and faster to sear the runes in and activate them that way.

Within the next two days, they managed to contain the beast even further. Every once in a while they would stop and then aim at one spot simultaneously. The magical presence would retreat quickly. They did not bother to always mark the territory as theirs, confusing the...thing... even further. When they did, and it tried to creep back in, it would rush back as if scalded. By the eighteenth, they had managed to leave only about six parts out of nine of the area unclaimed. That had of course led to attacks. There was an attack by inferi – thoroughly unimaginative for someone who expected to see that or something similar. Wooden stakes found three targets. There even really was a Lethifold, which they corralled with Patronuses and set ablaze.

* * *

"Have you observed that as we get closer, it is behaving more sentient, and it is more difficult to beat back?" asked Jane, the night of the eighteenth, after they had reclaimed a third of the forest from Voldemort.

"It is. I fear whatever may be inside that thing, honestly," Alastor replied. "It still feels thoroughly dirty and horrible."

"I know. I can feel the oiliness and a feeling of being put into a pile of something decomposing."

"It could very well be a sacrifice, or some new perversion of magic that Riddle has come up with."

"It's a pity that Parseltongue isn't working. Now that we have gotten thus far, I really do want to see what the big, terrible secret is."

"That would have actually explained why all Parselmouths in the region and neighbouring countries or in those with any sort of political power in the region are being eliminated," Hadrian mused.

This was one of the things that Alastor Moody liked about his new comrades...er...team. 'Comrades' was a politically delicate term in terms of what he was thinking. So, anyway; he liked working with the new team. They took into account the non-magical factors as well. It had never been more than a funny little thing that existed, for Albus, in spite of the fact that Grindelwald had been the occult force that drove Hitler. That man killed more people than Grindelwald and Voldemort combined, and yet Albus had decided that eliminating Grindelwald had been enough. That was a place in the history of mankind where magic and mundane could have come together and sought to rebuild, yet the victors on each side had, in his opinion, knowingly ignored each other. That sort of a chance wouldn't, and given the way it had come up in the first place, shouldn't come again, in his true opinion.

* * *

They started earlier than usual on the nineteenth, this time working with a stone fireplinth. This was the basic construct that Mad-Eye had turned up with at the spur of the moment. Truly, as he had said, he had a deep understanding of magical theory. In truth, it was nothing but a sconce. They had had to gather a lot of brush and firewood to start the fire. But it was what Mad-Eye did to the plinth that was important. The top was a concave bowl which was now transfigured into glass. This held the fire. Above it, charms had been cast to emulate a Bubble-Head Charm. This included a few ways to regulate the oxygen rich atmosphere and the balance of air properties within, all learnt through trial and error. This helped them regulate and direct the light, without the flames flickering. It made the contraption better than the bluebell flames which didn't spread light to the same extent.

The ingenuity came into play with the construction and the final charm itself. It was very, _very_ difficult to tie charms to objects whose physical properties had been transfigured in the first place. The spell or whatever it was that did the fire protection was of Mad-Eye's own invention. It made the two younger ones to wonder why people never saw beyond the 'paranoid' facade that Moody projected.

They didn't get much time to ponder over it though. They finally had done enough to draw Voldemort's attention.


	11. A First Skirmish and Lesson

**A First Skirmish and Lessons**

A/N: Warning: Very graphic scenes, slightly toned down.

* * *

It was midmorning by when they had made even an iota of progress. The earlier effects were back again. This time though, they were prepared. And knowing that they had made more headway, they were now ready for things to get incredibly worse. They had just stopped to take a breather, when a soft pop, the unmistakable herald of an apparition sounded out in the now eerily silent woods. If they hadn't been expecting it, they would have rubbished it off as yet another creature of the forest stepping on a twig. Their Dead-Sense Spell was quickly refurbished. There was no doubt that whoever had come was no friend.

The cloaked figure was nearly silent when it emerged. Whoever it was certainly had some idea about more than just magical ways of hiding. This was not just any cloak. It was delicately patched together in various shades of the woods to imitate the tree trunks. It also hid beneath it a pair of trousers, which were only seen when the person – man – had to take a longer step. There was also no visible problem with motion for him.

There was only one person who knew the area, the mundane clothes and would be so intimately comfortable in both – Tom Marvolo Riddle. None of his followers, bar Pettigrew had ever pursued him to Albania. It went without saying, therefore, that he had a secret in this place which was closer to his chest than a Horcrux. And it didn't bode well at all.

From their vantage point, it was easy to see that their work had captured Tom's attention. Usually, anyone who captured the beast's attention either was recruited, or murdered. There would never be any prizes for guessing what he had in store for them.

Riddle shucked of the cloak as his pallid features took a decidedly cruel and angry expression. Well, that was his default expression, but there was also fear mingled with him.

"We can kill him now and be done," whispered Hadrian. "He can't even sense us!"

"I think he can, here, Harry," Hermione replied quietly. "You aren't thinking like a snake. Each motion, to a snake is a vibration. Each sound is a vibration. Even the slightest of motion on our part will tell him about us. Did you take that into account?"

"Well, I have to learn more. The spell was made with humans and magic in mind. Didn't realise animals would be different in that aspect."

"Will you two shut up?" Alastor hissed.

That really did shut them up.

Voldemort spent about five minutes raging, raving and ranting in a mix of languages including Parsel. He inspected the area reclaimed, and then saw the fireplinth. His rage only spiked up, the magic he had imposed on the area ramping up in resonance with his own.

In a primal manner, the necromancer/Dark Lord raised his head and bared the teeth (now sharpened to fangs) and cried out, "MOODY!"

"Can we attack him now?"

"We will have to do something anyway..."

Mad-Eye stepped out into the open to draw fire. He was one of the few who could buy them all a few seconds if he kept him off balance. They were in a fight, not a duel. So they were going to put him out of commission temporarily. The objective was for Hadrian to make things difficult for Riddle while Jane isolated any link between the dark force (they really needed to understand what it was and rename it) and Voldemort.

"Yes? You called?" drawled Moody. Then feigning recognition, he asked in surprise, "Tom Riddle, is that you?"

It was enough to momentarily throw Riddle of track. "I knew I should have killed you first. Never mind," Riddle hissed, "I will ensure nobody else shall ever know more about..."

What nobody else wouldn't ever know more about he couldn't speak. Riddle's typical gloating gig bought enough time for a large stone to be smashed into the back of his head. Astoundingly, while for a normal person, it would have meant Death, it only was a small bump for Riddle. He had also performed rituals on his body to ensure that he would not be harmed in mundane ways. Well, it was only slightly unexpected.

Even for riddle, though, the impact was not lessened. It didn't crush his skull, but it did make him stagger slightly. That was enough for the two to throw spell after spell at him. The idea was to get him down only temporarily. For one, killing – or rather, disembodying – him while he hadn't reached the limit of Horcruxes would serve no purpose.

Riddle was not for nothing the most destructive Dark Lord he had been in the time that was being overwritten. He retaliated with severe force. There was a reason why he was feared. He could throw a bunch of Unforgivables and intersperse them with high power arcane spells. His fight tactic was to overwhelm his opponents with magics long forgotten, against which they would not think to shield. Very few thought to dodge.

His opponents at the moment were not among those idiots. Not only did they dodge, they were attacking him with the intent to kill. A change, he realised. He didn't care about having worthy opponents. All that any opponent was worthy of was a gruesome death, something he could make an example of. It was why he had travelled the world, killing, robbing and earning and learning. It was why he had learnt and then disposed of his teachers, for there would always be others seeking the knowledge. The Lost Magics of the Sumerians, the occult practices of the Orient adapted to spell forms, several spells that he had himself created, everything flew out of his yew and phoenix feather wand like a well-rehearsed symphony of death.

His opponents were up to the task, however. Their objective was to buy some time for Jane. She wasn't _fighting_ the magical force that they had been fighting for the previous few days. No. Her objective was to _isolate_ the link that the very presence of Voldemort, drawn in by the turbulence around his deepest secret, proved existed.

Mad-Eye and Hadrian were putting themselves deliberately closer to Riddle in the line of fire. Riddle couldn't see Hadrian, but he could feel the vibrations every time he apparated around the place and landed on the ground. Mad-Eye was attacking Voldemort face-to-face, while his younger team member was moving around in random spaces, using pretty much the same tactics they had used against the force, and hurling one particular Unforgivable himself. He stuck to the torture curse. The Imperius and the Killing Curse, if they missed, would cause problems to Mad-Eye and Jane beyond the scope of the Cruciatus.

Unfortunately, the very thing that he feared happened. The slashing hex that Dolohov had used, once again found Jane. This time, Voldemort hadn't aimed it at her, probably, though given her objective, and any success she might have had, one could never be sure. She was slightly protected – well enough to recuperate fast, but in that moment, it was Hermione who was hit with that spell.

Whether 'Love' was the power Voldemort knew not, or whether it wasn't, it didn't matter. Voldemort had never truly felt rage on another's behalf. He had never felt the need to avenge. He was magically powerful and protected, but he hadn't ever gotten over the fear and sheer terror that a physical attack on his person brought. It wasn't a conscious decision, but it was what Hadrian went with, as he suddenly apparated _on_ Voldemort.

That certainly threw the...man (in the loosest sense of the word)...off his game. Mad-Eye took the opportunity to escape with Jane.

For the first time since those childhood years in the orphanage, Voldemort saw hatred, pure hared directed at him. The last time this had happened, Tom Riddle had caused an accident that eliminated his attacker. This time, he couldn't. He was staring into the eyes of his most feared enemy – death.

Hadrian clobbered Voldemort with his fists. It didn't exactly help – if a smashing stone couldn't truly hurt Voldemort, fists would hardly be even as effective as a pinch. But he was leaking magic at a truly impressive rate and was channelling it into his attack, fuelled with tremendous hatred. He would, he bloody would find a weakness.

A greater irony there couldn't have been in the situation. Voldemort had hurt the girl who would be two Dentists' daughter. He had, in his attempt to be more snakelike had actually forked his tongue; had carved his teeth to make them more like a snake's fangs and the rest to emulate the backward curved teeth that helped snakes draw in their dead prey as they swallowed them. He had also split his lower jaw vertically. Snakes, anatomically, have a very special cranial structure. The lower jaw splits two ways into mandibles with a ligament and pivot at the back to enable for an increased ability to swallow prey. That was what Voldemort had aimed for.

Seeing an incoming punch right into his face, he opened his mouth wide to swallow Hadrian's hand whole. His eyes, already achieving the slit-pupils he had achieved once before, and the flattening of the muscles around the jaw and neck to allow the sudden expansion made his face look positively like a snake. He wasn't prepared for Harry to realise that and improvise at the last second and sweep Voldemort's legs out from under him and conjure a mace-head in the punching fist at the same time. The mace stuck into the opened jaws, and while he had performed a ritual to strengthen his bones radically, any such ritual on the muscles and soft tissue would have rendered him rigid – the exact opposite of a snake. More pertinently, it would make his body useless. The mace therefore, easily hurt the tissue inside his mouth.

Hadrian ruthlessly yanked the mace out, drawing blood from the scaled outer skin, the inside of the mouth and the gums. The teeth were broken. Voldemort was, temporarily, defanged. This also elicited proof of the fact that he was human, and not yet completely a snake; instead of _hissing_ _and spitting_ , Voldemort _howled_ in pain.

Now knowing where to hit, Hadrian did what he had to. He sent a stunning spell into the beast's mouth. Given the beast's magical prowess and physical prowess, which had only been temporarily overcome for the moment, he would soon be revived. But that was enough time to subdue him temporarily and remove Mad-Eye from the beast's memory.

Why? Why, when he had Voldemort at his mercy, did the Hand not kill him?

Voldemort would still be alive – his still secret Horcruxes were testament to the fact. However, in their bid to actually uproot the supremacist-terrorist movement, the Hand and his companions had fallen into the very trap that Dumbledore had fallen into. With much more time available and several measures taken, Voldemort was neutralised in the interim. But he was the known devil. He was the best to lead the purebloods. It had become almost necessary for them to make him a puppet, a puppet that still decided its own course of action of course, but whose actions would ensure that they would and could do more to nullify the dying magical society by pruning its gangrenous parts.

Riddle was to be the lightning rod for the public wrath against supremacist terrorism, against the discrimination and the general quagmire that the magical world had become. He had to be the focus for the war that would not bring about a revolution, but an evolution among the magicals.

It had become an exercise in The Greater Good.

That very thought, though, was the measure of their underestimation of the formidability of Riddle as an enemy. Just because they had taken away some of his anchors, it didn't render him at their mercy. Tom Riddle was a very powerful Warlock in his own right and he had enhanced that power by various means, mostly foul. This was a fight they were going to remember – and ensure that Riddle didn't.

* * *

A grim-faced Mad-Eye landed in the PTIEC, courtesy of the emergency portkey. Cloaking spells notwithstanding, it was still a crime if he was caught. It had to be a real emergency, for it was in direct contravention of all the edicts by all local governmental bodies – magical or mundane. He was carrying a bleeding Jane.

"JANIE!" cried the grandmothers in unison. "WHAT HAPPENED?"

"Can't stay and discuss. It's a variation of the Flagrante-and-Slashing-curse-mix, best I can tell. We were attacked by Riddle. I must go back and help the lad." The two women immediately started working on her.

He wasted not a second more as another portkey took him back to the closest apparition point. Alastor emerged into the clearing they were, just in time to see Hadrian yank out the mace and temporarily subdue Riddle.

* * *

"I want to kill him," Hadrian angrily hissed.

"You know why we can't do that," Mad-Eye replied, though his tone suggested that he didn't exactly disagree with Harry's. He only received a grunt in response. "What are we going to do? How did he know it was my doing in the first place? I never encountered him before."

"It's obvious. One of your Aurors has been compromised."

It was Mad-Eye's turn to grunt.

"I can't use Parseltongue-enhanced Legillimency on him. It would be the same with any other mind magics. He is a master in them. In both cases, he is sure to be stronger than I am." It was true. Irrespective of Hadrian's status as the Hand, Voldemort was still one of the most powerful wizards in the world. The Hand only knew more than Voldemort knew. That didn't mean he could perform better magic than Voldemort could. "I am also pretty sure that he is impervious to potions and poisons," Hadrian continued. "Most snakes are cannibalistic, so the higher they are on the food chain, the greater their ability to withstand various poisons. This one has sought to change to a more ophidian body so he must have taken on the venom-withstanding abilities of the basilisk. Nothing but the best would do for him. And he far supersedes Slughorn in his ability to create potions."

This was where they had miscalculated. How and why did they even think that Voldemort would be satisfied with just Horcruxes? He would always have so many magics added to and acting on his body to make him practically invincible and indestructible.

"Can you undo any of the physical enhancement rituals?"

"Magic has to be countered by like magic Mad-Eye. Didn't you teach me that as well?"

This was a terrible situation to be in. Riddle was too well protected. And they weren't in a position to take countermeasures. Retreating was not a valid option.

"We will have to do what she was doing. Isolate the link."

Hadrian shrugged and got to work. It was the only thing that would keep his mind off Jane for now.

It wasn't an easy task. It was a metaphysical and spiritual link, which in another way could have been used to protect and nurture. This was Riddle's magic in its rawest, truest form – formless. They couldn't. There was no real magical link to isolate. They were fighting over Riddle's attempt to be Nature, to be God of that patch of earth, to be the mind of the forest. That was what had drawn Riddle in. It was as if the attacks on that stronghold of darkness resulted in the transmission of pain to Riddle.

"I can't. There is nothing to isolate." Hadrian looked defeated. There was nothing he could do. Had he not dodged, Hermione wouldn't have got hurt again. Had he not asked for her foolishly, she would have never had to fight yet another war. Once he had stopped attempting to bludgeon the Dark One, the adrenaline and rush of hatred was quickly replaced by an overwhelming fear of failure, and by guilt at having been the reason for Hermione getting hurt yet again. If only he hadn't dodged...

Alastor saw what was happening. He jerked Harry away from the Hand and got the boy back into the game with a stinging slap across his face.

"There. Is. No. Luxury. For. Us. To. Fail!"

"What can I do?" Harry shouted back.

"Do whatever is necessary. You know what you are. You know why you are here. You know why you have to leave him alive for the time being. You know what you can do. DO IT!"

The Hand was left staring at the prone form of Voldemort, knowing that he didn't have long. Voldemort was out for only about the minute and fifteen seconds that Alastor had rightly used to get his mind back online.

There was one way out. There was one more, but that was sure to fail.

"CRUCIO!" yelled Harry. He was fuelling the curse with all the hatred he had for the man, and with the anger about the fact that the thing would have to be left alive.

To a waking Voldemort, the jolt of pain was more than anything he had ever borne before. Even the pleasurable pain of making a Horcrux was nothing compared to this. The crucial component in the Unforgivables was the caster's intent and emotion. And there was a reason why they said that the only way to save oneself from an Unforgivable was to dodge it. No ritual could counter an unforgivable because it was a spell. And no spell had been invented to counter the Unforgivables, even by Voldemort.

The best that this would do, if Voldemort could bear the pain, was that it would only slightly weaken him, physically. There was no guarantee it would cause even a thousandth of the effect that the curse had had on the Longbottoms. But they had to try.

When he finally lifted the curse after a complete minute, they weren't sure what they could expect, therefore.

Voldemort, wheezed slightly, and then broke into a fit of hissy laughter, while also coughing some blood. "You are sssserioussss about killing me, aren't you? I am ffffar more powerrrffffulll. You cannot trullly hope to kill meee."

" _Maybe you are_ ," Harry replied in Parsel, " _but I am more stubborn_. _Crucio_ _Horribilis_!"

This, more than anything had an effect on Voldemort. This unknown, faceless person with Moody was a Parselmouth, and was willing to break through his body and mind with true hate. It was a spur of the moment addition – the sort that most teachers told their students about as a hack, adding 'horribilis' at the end to make a curse more effective. People were always so scared of the Unforgivables that they never bothered to see what would happen if someone used 'horribilis' with the Cruciatus. And it was cast in a magical language.

This time, it hurt worse. But this time, the force within the forest, tied to him, backed him up. It repelled the curse on the Hand, partially. It caused the Hand to whimper slightly in surprise, for that was the extent to which his body would react to pain, but he wouldn't lose. Mad-Eye took the opportunity of the torture to beat back one more square metre of the force. It immediately subsided, confused. There were several attacks, and it didn't know whom to retaliate against.

The combined effect was that Voldemort slipped. He slipped enough to yell, to let his enemy know that he had felt the pain. That was all the chance Hand needed to break into the mind of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Voldemort, had, thankfully, performed no ritual to protect his mind. That was all natural ability, and it was tremendous. But nobody had truly forced themselves on his mind with the sole intent to destroy it.

Mad-Eye was spurred to work harder as he heard the Dark One's cry of pain. However it was that the forest's presence was tied to him, he had to beat it back. Another square metre was acquired.

This was no action, no adventure or drama that the heroes of any sort would find their selves in. This was a determined assault. It was without honour, for neither did the perpetrator accord any to his...victim...nor did the 'victim' deserve it.

"Yes!" was all that the Hand mumbled before he rushed into the mind of his enemy. Of course, Voldemort, a man who had turned into a Master Legillimancer and Occlumancer before the age of twenty, certainly had no problem regaining some strength to fight the his enemy's invasion of his mind.

* * *

In the mind of Voldemort, it was like standing in a snake pit. It was dark, foreboding and reeked of danger. He could see nothing, but there was an all-pervading odour – the one associated with rotting carcasses, quite similar to the – the cavern housing the CHAMBER OF SECRETS!

This was an absolutely new situation for the Hand – he had never entered another's head. What were the rules? Was he trapped? Were his thoughts being taken away from him as well?

"Good," a voice sounded. "A thinking nemesssissss; that is a firssst, compared to the other boring onessss."

"Hiding in the shadows, ready for the ambush; I would ask you to face me like a man, but that would do your efforts to become a snake disservice," The Hand replied.

The darkness gave way to a blank space, with just some light to show relative presence.

"You intrigue me." Tom Riddle Junior, the real human behind whatever it was that Voldemort was, made his appearance and heralded it with a single statement.

"I suppose that would be a great compliment."

"It is. Nobody so much as tried to recognise my efforts. I had to resort to truly plebeian ways of killing them."

"Must be irritating."

"You have no idea."

"Please. I have had insane megalomaniacs gloating at me and telling me how they will have fun killing me. My experiences are not so removed from yours."

Riddle shrugged. "Everyone is a martyr or victim to his own mind's creations."

"And Voldemort is yours? Flee from Death... it's disappointing..."

"Do you know what disappointment is?"

"A muggle father, perhaps?"

"You do realise you know too much, don't you?"

"I do. You have been a person of singular interest for me, Thomas Marvolo Riddle."

"Oh, naughty-naughty! I have my own personal stalker!" He pretended to blush.

"Blushing doesn't rank among your abilities, Riddle."

"You are right. A rosy red...it doesn't really suit me. Now, the crimson of blood, that is a truly interesting colour, isn't it?"

"How very Gryffindor!" the Hand poked back. "You are a Parselmouth, so you are _an_ heir of Slytherin. Wasn't it you killing off others who were our distant cousins?"

"Oh you recognised that?"

"Well, I attributed the sloppiness and the sense of irony to you. You know, setting a basilisk, and then framing a _half-giant_ ," added the Hand with a truly worthy sneer, "as the Heir of Slytherin. Or a reticulated python killing a man in Russia. That's disappointing."

"You are exceptionally well-informed. For me to disappoint you twice..."

"Well, my dear cousin Merope was touched in the head. Really, Marvolo mated with his sister. Even snakes choose to traverse wider territories to find mates."

"And they kill of those unfit or too threatening."

"It is nature."

"Very much so." Riddle sighed. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I have never felt truly sorry before killing anyone. You...you are different."

"Quite a charmer, you are," The Hand replied, with his own attempt at a blush. He was only marginally more successful. "Please, try your best. I am sure your cute efforts will be thoroughly wasted." The Hand was goading Riddle into attacking. He had quite forgotten what to not be quite human meant till he was required to step up his game. It was what he would be using.

"Will they?"

"There's no mystery if I answer, is there?"

"No. Of course, there isn't. I will just have to try."

With that they flew at each other. Riddle, was worthy of the tag he had earned. He had created the rule of a purely non-magical realm in his mind. If he got hurt with magic, there was a chance he could have lost control of his magic in the real world. Here, it was just simple combat.

An interesting individual was Riddle, but magic or not, The Hand had no intention of going away with anything but a win. His primary objective was to force away Riddle's link with the magic.

Outside, Mad-Eye was worrying over whatever was going on, because Hadrian was slightly slumped over the snake-man. He stopped with the attempt to disrupt the magical field, not knowing how it would affect the tussle going on within Voldemort's head. It was an accidental stroke of good luck.

As soon as the Mad-Eye stopped attacking the entity, it manifested itself within Riddle's mindscape to aid him. It was disconcerting to see two Riddles, one looking completely bereft of any sense of self, and subservient to the other. If the idea was to confuse the Hand with the doppelgangers, it had abjectly failed.

With full knowledge of the fact that whatever the entity actually was, was not exactly in control, and would react to any attack on Riddle's person, the Hand targeted the pseudo-Riddle. Its first instinct was to move and defend the real Riddle, who had ordered that very thing. So when the punch was directed at it, it didn't know what to do and it also surprised Riddle.

The problem was that the Hand didn't know whether this was a manifestation of the control Riddle had over the power, entity, being, spirit, force or whatever they had been fighting in the forest, or whether it was a manifestation of the power itself. Being unable to understand what one fights would always be the greatest handicap for any warrior.

Whatever it was, there was no point in tarrying. Two against one were horrible odds. In the mindscape, they were playing by the rules of Riddle, who had been physically bullied, and so he would always make the mindscape rules to ensure that he would be the one physically stronger, and with every advantage available. So the only obvious response would be to be unpredictable. If the arena was loaded against him, Hadrian had to take away that advantage on his part.

So he kept attacking the 'other' for a while – a whole thirteen seconds of perceived time. Riddle caught on quickly. It was however enough to significantly weaken the 'other' for the time being. Riddle charged with a sword. That was about as good and as risky and as dangerous as things could get. Every time Harry attempted to hit Tom, the other started to interfere. This became something of a frustration for Tom as well. In a dance of blood (imaginary, of course) the three fought, the 'other' finally catching on when Tom deigned to give orders. This was exactly the opening the Hand was looking for. In a move to draw an attack from Tom, he made as if to clobber the 'other', but instead sold both a dummy. Tom, who had intended to thrust the sword towards Hadrian, ended up impaling the 'other'.

Mad-Eye was still waiting in a tense state for when either would snap out of it and move. Instead he was thrown off his feet as a massive, concussive wave of magic engulfed the forest. All the control, the sentience that the 'power' had borrowed from Tom Riddle was lost in the moment of impaling. There was a sound that scared the Auror out of his skin. It sounded like the long, drawn-out screams of a multitude, as the energy that was bound within was released with the force of a small bomb.

When the screaming ceased, Mad-Eye saw what was within. A hitherto hidden large pit was the secret, yet they were sure it wasn't hidden by the Fidelius Charm. The feeling of hatred, revulsion and dirtiness now returned in full force. There was very little time. He rushed in towards the pit and blanched. Controlling his gag reflex, he rushed away and threw in the contraptions he had made for the light. He observed, even in his hurry, that several trees around were losing life and withering away in the absence of the 'energy'. At the moment, the naming or understanding of power was unimportant. All that was of import was the destruction of the area. Etching containment runes around the pit with carving spells, he readied the setup for Fiendfyre.

Within Tom's mind, the Hand took the opportunity to do what he had to. It was now completely obvious that they had underestimated Tom, so the objective was to make him forget about Moody and knock him out for as long as they could. Tom may have made the rules, but in his shock and anger at having destroyed the 'other', he was losing control of his mindscape. This was the only chance to cause lasting damage to his psyche, and there really wasn't long before Tom would regroup and retaliate.

Ejecting himself from the mindscape, he sent several high powered blasters at the ground around Riddle. It wouldn't hurt him much, but it would make even getting up difficult for him from the odd angle he was lying in, even if he tried to slither. He then forced his will upon Riddle and with the Elder Wand, eliminated all traces of Moody from Tom's memory. Another mace, this time transfigured from a nearby stone, with a slow, continuous engorging charm on it, was once again locked into the open four-pronged jaw.

Alastor saw that it was the boy, and not Tom Riddle, with a simple test – a Patronus. With that, Hadrian approached the trees on the edge of the pit. There really was no time to check, so they did the thing that was both stupid and sensible – they cut off all the trees in the area that exuded darkness after thorough checks, shrunk them all, cast Fiendfyre into the pit and escaped. All this was accomplished at such a high pace, that it would seem that they were using a time-turner and several of their temporal doppelgangers were helping them.

Just a few moments later, when Tom Riddle regained consciousness and coherence, there was no sign of intruders. And there was no sign of his secret either.

The man stood stunned for a few moments, and then in rage and despair, yelled, "NOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

"HERMIONE!" This was not Hadrian Jameson, nor was it the Hand. This was Harry Potter, who had somehow remained calm and subdued while fighting Voldemort, in spite of the sheer terror that had gripped him. He had simply deposited all the things in his hands, his cloak which had the shrunken trees, and discarded all his clothes down to just the vest and boxers. Those were his only clean clothes, and he wasn't rushing into the patient's room with any evidence of the fight on his clothes at least.

Jane was sleeping and pale. But she looked alive.

"Calm down, Harry!" scolded his grandmothers, grandfathers and Remus. "You will wake her!" Then as an afterthought, Dorea added, "Where are your clothes, young man?"

"How is she?" he asked urgently, ignoring the question.

"She is fairly well. Once the remnants of magic were drained off, her body started to recuperate off its own accord. Where are your clothes?"

"Shucked them off," he answered. "I got them dirty when I fought him." He still looked anguished and rightly so. Sitting down, he caressed her hand tenderly, before kissing her lightly. "This is still more clothes than she as seen me in," he remarked blithely.

"Have a bath, get dressed and then come here. Now!" ordered Rose.

Jane woke two hours later, to see a whole bunch of people napping in their chairs.

"Harry?" she whispered.

"Hermione!" He instantly tightened his grip on the hand he was holding, and moved to caress her face tenderly. "How are you?"

"Slightly sore, but that's about it. Gran Doe said I would be up and about in a week. I didn't know she was a healer."

"Nor did I. It seems we aren't the only ones improvising."

Hermione smiled. "Did you get him?"

"Yes Love. Got him, and he no longer has anything in Albania."

She smiled weakly. "Good." She closed her eyes briefly in tiredness, before opening them again. "You weren't dressed when you came. I heard."

"I had more important things to worry about. You are making a habit of nearly leaving me, love."

"It wasn't me who wanted to sacrifice myself. You actually did leave me."

Harry inclined his head slightly. "It's painful, Hermione. You are the only one who was always there. What will I do without you?" His voice held a slight whine.

"You will be lost, of course."

Harry chuckled in agreement. "You are right. You are always right."

"Show me what happened." Harry slipped away as the Hand, once again all business, summoned the pensieve. He showed them all his battle with Voldemort.

"We underestimated him," Remus muttered bitterly.

"We got carried away in the Master of Death malarkey," Moody grunted. "But you fought well, boy."

"Riddle surprised me. I was expecting the gloating, sneering git."

"You have never seen the true Tom Riddle," Charlus told them. "He was as charming as they come. He had a way with words like nobody I had ever seen before." He then glared at his grandson. "That was very dangerous."

"He had hurt Hermione. I couldn't kill him because I underestimated him. That doesn't mean that I didn't want to."

Charlus gave Dorea a sidelong glance, and sighed, "I understand."

Moody was up next.

Hadrian had fought. But it was Moody who truly knew what was hidden. No sooner did the vantage point shift to Moody standing on the edge, than everyone heaved and retched as one.

There were several half digested bodies of humans – presumably witches and wizards, of all ages – and all other sorts of magical animals.

"Oh God!" Rose whimpered, cupping her mouth on reflex. Her granddaughter-in-law to be copied her feelings. The others did as well.

"He ate them."

"HE DID WHAT?" cried (rhetorically, really) Matthew in thorough revulsion.

"Remember how he had changed his mouth and jaw to copy a snake? This is why. This is the vilest ritual possible. Even Horcruxes are light magic compared to this. He ate them and assimilated their projected life spans into his own, and the force we were fighting was their magic, which he had locked in to act as a preserver," Hadrian explained looking very, very green. "He could call on this magic when necessary."

"Can he do that again?" Matthew asked.

"He could," Charlus conceded with a grimace. "I am well-versed in rituals myself, and since this lot came along, I have been reading up the darkest ones as well, but nowhere have I found any reference to this."

"Thomas was resourceful, brilliant and extremely vile. He could just as well have created the ritual or whatever it was," Dorea pointed out.

"It is interesting," Rose noted finally, with a stab at objectivism. "Snakes are known to eat their young. You told me that Charlus and Dorea's son became an animal..."

"Animagus," corrected Dorea.

"Yes that," Rose carried on, waving the interruption away impatiently. "Why didn't Riddle become a snake animagus?"

"He is trying to get the best of both. Animagi can't cast magic in their animal form," replied Hadrian.

There was a long silence as they contemplated

"We never knew this the last time," Mad-Eye mused with a grimacing grin. Before he had even gotten a word in edgeways, the situation had been whittled down and dissected. "No wonder he was powerful. He must have done this several times over. Something went wrong when he was resurrected. He wasn't the Riddle I had known and fought against before 1981."

"His servant wasn't committed enough. He only wanted to run away from the law," reasoned Jane.

"Of course," grunted the Auror. "Potter wanted him dead. Black wanted him dead. Lupin wanted him dead. The Death Eaters wanted him dead. Resurrecting Riddle was the only recourse left. Spineless worm!"

"If he has done this once, he must have other places of power," Rose reasoned. "I am loath to call it a power bank, but no term really comes close enough." That was a very sobering thought. Rose was however, not done. "There are a few more things that struck me. I think you have made a massive mistake."

She was immediately the cynosure of all eyes. "What was it?" demanded Jane.

"You left traces of your blood. I have been reading up on snake physiology. Snakes have a Jacobson organ that works on chemoreception, which helps them hunt and track prey. If he is trying to be a snake he will surely try and develop that, because it is practically absent in humans and is a major difference in the smelling and general detection capabilities. Plus, he has human memory and intellect. Even if he doesn't remember the face of Mr. Moody, or Jane, he can track them by their blood."

Her pronouncement was greeted by stunned silence. Finally Remus sighed, "So it just is a slightly buggered up situation."

* * *

The shrunken trees were a dead end. They were only anchors for the power to keep it bound to the area. On a balance, their mission to Albania had largely been a failure.

* * *

"I shouldn't have dodged that one." Harry's out-of-the-blue statement caught Hermione cold, but she recovered fairly quickly. They were in bed, more than a week later. Soon after she her injury, they had taken to sleeping together, each seeking the physical comfort that being together, even as innocently as they were, brought.

"Bullshit!" scolded Hermione vehemently. "You maybe superhuman, but so is Voldemort. It was instinct."

"I can't understand how self-preservation went above remembering your presence," he replied in self-deprecating anger.

"Don't be absurd. It is ingrained in your mind that you have to dodge anything he throws at you. I was invisible to him. He could just as well have missed you and hit me."

She was not looking at him. Her head was in the crook of his neck. But she could feel the pensive frown he wore, before his expression cleared and he began to shake with silent laughter.

"You always could set me right," he said happily. The tone of his voice comforted her. A brooding Harry was never nice to be with. A happy Harry, though, was one she could fall in love with over and over again. So she had to be the one to balance it all out. "You are the only one who can give me an arse-whipping when I need one."

"Just because I was out for the time being, doesn't mean you shouldn't have expected an arse-whipping later, Potter!"

"You do love to do it, won't you?"

"I have waited for sooo long..." she replied salaciously, with a very cheeky grin.

"Minx," he muttered, as he slid down slightly and captured her lips with his own. She smiled into the kiss and decided that it was time to be just a bit adventurous. A split second later, it was Harry Potter and Hermione Granger who were sharing the bed. Being so close in their young forms was creepy, whatever their rational minds could say.


	12. Of Four Families

**Of Four Families**

A/N: F-H=Jane=Hermione. M-H=Hadrian=Harry. I don't own it. Thanks to all reviewers, favouriteers, followers. This is the last chapter in the Summer 1972. Year 2 starts after this.

* * *

If eleven of the twelve years of his life(not counting his year in Hogwarts) spent living with the Black family had taught anything, it was that his family was insane, murderous, hated each other in factions and he would sooner have only James s a cousin than have any of these idiots related to him. He had hope for Regulus. Andy was many years older than he was but she was his best cousin on the maternal side. She was also bound to be thrown out from the family. The others were, however, not the sort of people he would wish as relatives upon anyone else.

The Bellatrix episode, however, discombobulated Sirius completely. He had learnt to hate her over the past years because of her obsessive pro-pureblood propaganda that actually was nothing more than a series of increasingly lurid ways to torture and kill. This, of course, earned her much plaudits and appreciation from his mother and her parents, Cygnus and Druella, and their (Sirius' and Bella's) grandfather Pollux. He refused to call that man his grandfather, though. Pollux's other son, Uncle Alphard, was Sirius' hero. He taught Sirius the way forward, causing mayhem at every family meeting and shooting down everything that Pollux, Walburga and Cygnus ever said.

That was not the point. He had always thought Bella to be an insane murderous woman. Instead, he turned out to be the greatest prankstress ever. She behaved as was expected till she was in school, even attempting to convert him and Reggie. And then, shortly after she had her seventeenth birthday, she magically transformed into a sane person! Sirius had no idea how right he was. He only saw the woman winking at him mischievously, joking with Uncle Alphard and in general, doing everything that her mother disapproved off because it brought shame to the family. She was the first Slytherin who was sane!

She openly declared that they were all fools for following the propaganda, derided her aunt Walburga (Sirius' mother), reduced her mother to tears, and became the general darling of Arcturus, Sirius, Alphard, Regulus, her older sister and Aunt Dorea, who visited a lot these days. And to think she might actually have once been his boggart!

 _"_ _And grandfather Arcturus!_ " thought Sirius. All along he had thought that the man was just a relic of old, someone who was content to watch as everything went to tatters. Something had changed, he knew, when Aunt Dorea had started coming around more and more. Till recently she was an acquaintance, someone they just knew to exist. His mother was particularly opposed to her because of whom she had married instead of some bloke called Mulciber. These days, though, it was common to find his grandfather talking to her and James' father over the floo. This meant that he now had **_five_** good cousins and a potential sixth in Narcissa, whom he would not be ashamed to be related to.

It seemed that there were some restrictions on his father and mother as well. They were asked to leave the disciplining to others. Pollux was muzzled, as was his wife, the harridan Irma Burke-Black. Somehow one line of Black had received all the wrong things, and Orion had gotten infected instead of Alphard, just as it always seemed that Uncle Alphard should've been his father. Then again that required that the person marry, or something.

On the 23rd of July, however, Sirius found them all in the Dartmoor house. He liked it better than the house they lived in, in London. Grimmauld Place really was a Grim Old Place, except for the great muggle celebrations that seemed to take place on some weekends from August through May. ***** Anyway, this time, once again, the Black Manor was hosting a family meeting. The funny thing was that there were four more people there.

Dorea, James, Darrene and Eldric were not Blacks. Dorea wasn't anymore, and the rest, her children, never were. Yet they had been invited for the family meeting. Sirius didn't truly understand the nuances of House Politics or business, but he just knew that whatever was going on was significant.

"The House of Black welcomes its beloved daughter once more in its midst," Grandfather Arcturus proudly declared. Sirius had never seen the man happy, not the way he was. Arcturus then shook James' hands and squatted on one knee to get a better look at the younger children. They would be nine in August. Nobody in the house had ever seen them before. "These two young ones have Mother's look to them," he observed.

"Yes. They do indeed," agreed Aunt Dorea.

"What are these people doing here?" snarled Pollux. "They couldn't be true Blacks if they tried, in spite of that pure-blood name, and because of it!"

" _So much for a nice welcoming atmosphere_ ," thought Sirius.

"Shut up, grandfather," snapped Bellatrix. She might not be bigoted anymore, but that didn't necessarily make her a respectful, thoroughly sane, ideal woman of high breeding. That was Narcissa's prerogative. Her mother was quick to slap her. Typical Black discipline, that was.

"Silence, Cousin!" thundered Arcturus. "Much will be revealed today, and I doubt your sanity shall survive. Apologise to our guests!" This had many gaping. Arcturus and Pollux never truly got along with each other, but this was new. "And Bellatrix, child, as much as I agree with the sentiment, it falls to us to maintain a certain standard. You do know of whom we can't expect it."

She acted contrite quite wonderfully.

Dorea acted as if she had not been witness to the little drama. "I thank you for your welcome, Lord Black, as do my children." Then she broke her pure-blood mien purposefully, and hugged her brother. "It's nice to be back here where I grew up, Arc." She looked up at him in the same way she used to when they were younger. She then hugged her sister-in-law. And then she turned to Pollux. "You are as idiotic as ever. I didn't expect anything else from the git who wanted the House of Black to betray our country, share it as we do with the muggles, to Grindelwald and his cronies."

A lot of the others hissed in anger, some at Dorea and some at Pollux.

Sirius made his way to his Potter cousins. "This is a bit..."

"Amusing? Awkward?" suggested James. "It is difficult to comprehend? How come we came here?"

"That quite addresses the scope of questions, yes. You can tell Great-Aunt Dorea that you learned to summarise things at school."

"I would if she were around enough," James protested. He then ushered the twins to the fore. "You have never met my younger tormentors. This is Darrene," he said as the girl bent her knees in an awkward curtsey, "and this is Eldric," he introduced as Eldric nodded and shook Sirius' hands.

Sirius on his part introduced Regulus to his new cousins. The boy timidly went through the motions, while unsuccessfully trying to not stare at the woman who had behaved like an abnormal Black with his grandfathers.

"Is this a prank James? You know, playing the pure-blood highborn or something?"

"I thought mum was pranking me when she said I was supposed to behave like this. I mean, can you imagine being polite?"

"It rather destroys the wonderful image we're trying to cultivate at school," Sirius mournfully agreed. He turned to the twins and Regulus. "Remember, this is our home face. We are supposed to be all prim and proper here. At school, never, ever use this face, okay? We are creating a reputation for ourselves, and we have high expectations from you."

The three younger ones looked bewildered and unsure as their respective elder siblings conspired.

"Don't worry," James said with a smirk. "You will get the hang of things pretty soon. Just remember, when in doubt, crack a joke or pull a prank. Otherwise, one becomes so serious – not him – but..."

"Don't use that hideous pun," Sirius growled.

"Alright, alright," James pacified. "Don't growl at me like a mutt." He addressed his cousin in exaggeratedly careful tones, "Otherwise one becomes so serious that we land up in a sort of soup as these people here. Mum is your Grandda's sister, Reg. And you didn't really know or meet us till now. It's not right is it?"

"No. It's not right," Regulus agreed.

"That's why we are giving you such great advice. Those new dark idiots won't have a chance if we families band together to resist them. And the families that prank together, grow and fight together," Sirius wisely declared.

The three nodded obediently. Being thrust in with the other group of people was jarring to all three of them. Their nervousness increased a bit as James and Sirius left them to their own devices. They smiled unsurely and just sat, smiling phoney smiles at everything and everyone.

Away in the corner, Sirius could speak with his friend properly. "Heard from the other three gits?"

"Peter and his mum have gone to France. Moony is staying somewhere where he is trying to de-Moony-fy himself or something," he dully relayed. Then he smirked and added, "Nothing from my dearest son."

"Your son?" asked Sirius and then grimaced. "Please. Don't. I get enough of the Sirius/serious thing from the newly sane Bella."

"How **_did_** that happen? Face it Sirius, nobody can be that good an actor, however much they might be capable of it. Bellatrix didn't slip the whole of last year. And she mightn't have slipped in the previous sixteen years either."

"I am not complaining. I like this Bella better. But she isn't completely sane." Sirius looked around furtively. "She listens to insects!"

"Insects?" asked James, flummoxed.

"Yes. She is currently listening to something called the Beatles, with the wrong spelling and everything."

"She listens to buzzing?"

"I have no idea mate. But her mum ordered her to at least cast silencing charms, and she's always correcting everyone about the spelling. Don't even know where she found that!" he explained. "What I don't get is why muggles would want to record the sounds of insects!"

"It is so that people like us can get wonderful new ideas for pranks."

"Everyone in the hall will be some sort of insect?"

"Or every firstie will be called an insect of some sort by the Sorting Hat?"

"Or perhaps the Sorting Hat will only buzz instead of declaring the House?"

"Old MCG snapping at people with stings?" suggested James.

"Dumbledore as the Bumblebee?" replied Sirius.

They looked at each other as the pranking camaraderie drove their nervousness away, and grinned before declaring simultaneously, "Awesome!"

"Mr. James Potter suggests that an intimation of such an idea should be made to our esteemed comrades..."

"...our brothers-in-arms..."

"...delightfully devious fun-lovers..."

"...promoters of laughter in these coming torrid times..."

"...pranksters at heart..."

"...moderators of very exciting, but potentially hurtful ideas..."

"Oh you caught onto that."

"I did. Hadrian and Moony always control things."

"Right..."

"...and the lookout and execution aide..."

"Absolutely!" the other one concurred. "It must be done post-haste."

"Mr. Sirius Black suggests taking time away from the current festivities for more important business. And he also suggests, what is surely a brilliant idea since Mr. Sirius Black has suggested it, that the Marauders should invent a code, learn it and use it to encode and record these wonderful bouts of humour."

"It is a capital idea; one which Mr. James Potter delights in agreeing to execute. Mr. James Potter also suggests alternative names for our esteemed fraternity..."

"...you know such big words?"

"Yes, I do. Evans knows many words. I am learning from a dictionary. Don't interrupt me. As I was saying, Mr. James Potter also suggests alternative names for our esteemed fraternity as using one's own full name and appellation in third person is more than a bit poncy."

"Mr. Sirius Black seconds it and assumes that the motion is passed, given that this was suggested before and was agreed to in principle."

"Children!" called Dorea, as Arcturus started in on the meeting.

* * *

Having a friend come visit his home was no longer Sirius' biggest surprise of the day. A sane Bellatrix to join Andy and Uncle Alphard, and an assertive Lord Black were not the highlights of Sirius' summer.

Yet it all came together very nicely in a single edict that the newly awoken and fairly angry Lord Black declared.

"This I say in summation. The House of Black will change its motto today from Toujours Pur. It now stands from here on out as, "ET MAGICAE PURISSIMUM EST IN CORDE SEMPER!" This means, "Always pure in magic and heart."

"We have gained a reputation, deserved though it is, of being dark. It is through the intervention of Lady Potter that I was required to wake up to my real duties as Lord Black." He could see the sneers from Pollux and his older son, daughter and daughter-in-law and Narcissa. They still had the good sense to not speak. "The House of Black is ancient, yes. And through time, and through power, the true story of our history has been perverted.

"The House of Black has links with Rowena Ravenclaw herself, a witch of no House and no antecedents. Nobody has ever questioned that and this family secret shall remain within these walls and within us. It has been protected for so long, and that is how it should be.

"We were the first disciples of Rowena. She entrusted us with the safekeeping of all the knowledge of magic that would be generated over the eons. We were supposed to be and shall henceforth be evermore, custodians. The use of Dark Magic as mandated by meaningless Ministry rules is not the issue. It is our use of magics in an impure fashion. Magic meant to maim or kill, magic meant to hurt; it shall bring our House to its knees. We are an Ancient and Most Noble House. The time has come to act like one. We shall lead our world by example. We shall not demand respect because we are pure. We shall command it."

"I do not understand," Cygnus had said.

"Walburga, have you not cursed Sirius when he defied your brand of pure-blood blathering? That is a crime against our House and against magic. It is for this reason that you are, forevermore, till Sirius, my chosen Heir bypassing Orion, should review your case."

"Pure-blood blathering?" Cygnus repeated incredulously.

"Pure-blood blathering," repeated Arcturus firmly. "What mother, forget pure-blood or otherwise, willingly tortures her children? She is not fit to be one of the House of Black, by birth or by marriage. No agenda is worth that, as much as I agree with it. We are not the Gaunts!" The name made everyone cringe. The Gaunts were considered the precursors to those who-should-not-be-named (Carrows).

There were fallen jaws waiting to be picked up by their respective owners at the pronouncement. They had, to be fair, already fallen down at the pronouncement that there never were any true muggle-born. That was untrue; the first wizard or witch of a line had to be one. They were rare. If it took the family away from its projected course, there would be no efforts to correct that statement from Dorea. There were, after all, ninety- ** _four_** muggle-born magicals born between 1960 and 1972, and not ninety- ** _three_** as she had told Arcturus. He hadn't asked if the data was **_complete_** , and she had not volunteered that bit of information. It had been irrefutable proof.

Anyway...the matter of little sisters that were a bit too clever was left unaddressed.

Orion looked mildly affronted. "What have I done to earn your displeasure?"

"You, my son, are a failure as a father, unable to show love to your children and protect them. And the failure is doubly mine that I was unable to do so and arranged you with your wife. For that I apologise." Pollux, Irma and Walburga hissed indignantly, and were ignored. "Yet, even Estella and I never punished you as Walburga does Sirius and even Regulus on occasion," Arcturus had said. "You will be regent in the event of my death before Sirius reaches the age of twenty-five."

To everyone's surprise, Orion just solemnly nodded. "I understand." It was the single greatest tragedy of the Blacks, was Orion Black. He was what everyone wanted and expected him to be, and that meant hen-pecked, bigoted, distant, and largely irrelevant. He was caught in the struggle between his father and father-in-law and his wife, a mute spectator to everything, and just venting by being a bigot. He never was, and never would be fit to be the Head of the Family.

The meeting had ended with Arcturus ordering every single member of the family to resist any attempts by Voldemort or any dark lord to entice them to their side, and had directed Sirius to continue that tradition when he ascended, to protect his brother and cousins, from Bella to little Darrene and Eldric. He did not ask them to do anything more than that. It was not necessary.

The House of Black had only been primed the house for changes as they would come, surely, while ensuring that they all steered away from Voldemort.

"You may think that this is the onset of senility," Arcturus finally spoke gently. "It is not. I have never set much store by Divination, given that I have never had the talent. But there is something to say about the clarity of the vision that portended the utter destruction of our House and that of my sister's that has me taking the decisions I took today. I do not want our children murdered by that fiend Voldemort, the liar who will claim Slytherin's legacy. I have on that account refused the Malfoys and the Lestranges. We will never use marriage contracts ever again. By the vision, those marriages destroyed our House. If any attempts are made to disobey this, I will cast the person in question out of the House of Black in perpetuity."

And Sirius had never felt as close to his grandfather as he had felt then. It was rather obvious that Arcturus was not able to keep his anger, or more correctly, his terror at a possible outcome which included the destruction of the House of Black, in control – he was never as disjointed in his speech – and truly, passionately believed in the vision that he spoke of. This was as close to displaying some sort of despair as it would get for the man, something which nobody truly understood, and against which nobody could truly complain.

* * *

Lily Evans had written to every friend of hers from school. Catherine, Eleanor and Arwen, Mary, and even Remus had all written back to her. She had not yet written to Potter and Black, and intended to do so soon with the former. However, she had heard enough, and through Bellatrix, seen enough of what his family was like, so more than anything else, she believed that writing to him would make things risky for him. She would be in for a massive surprise to know what had transpired over the summer.

Two people whom she had written to, though, had not replied to her. Hadrian Jameson and Jane Bennett were the two most difficult to understand people that Lily had ever met, or she would ever hope to meet. They were nearly enemies at the start of the school year, chiefly due to Severus' jealousies and possessiveness, as Jane had scathingly named the behaviour of her best friend before Hogwarts. She had never understood the instant hatred the two had for Severus.

Speaking of Severus, he had brought a few books along. They scared Lily. She liked potions and charms the best, but even she knew to draw the lines when learning. Why would anyone want to know what a desiccation charm applied to a person's blood would do to him/her, or what boiling a person's heart in amniotic fluid would do? Moreover, he was avoiding her quite a lot these days, hiding behind those books.

As such, Lily felt quite alone, especially since Tuni was avoiding her too. Little Dennis, well not so little now, would be joining her soon, as they knew he was magical too. But he had his own friends and playmates and even his older sister was yucky at the moment.

Suddenly there was a knock at the window. Someone was throwing gravel at it. She opened the window to see who it was and promptly received a faceful of it.

"Phrak Phthroo!" she spat out in disgust, before she rubbed her face and eyes to get the dirt out.

"Sorry 'bout that Evans!" a cheery voice called out. "We thought you might have to be called again!"

It was the two people she'd been thinking of, Jameson and Bennett.

"What are you two doing here?" Lily asked in sheer surprise.

"We were passing through," answered Bennett easily. "Once you know how to slip past the matron after lunch and return before dinner..."

Lily's head disappeared from the window as she bounded down to the street. On the way out, she yelled out, "Mum! Some friends from school are out in the street! May I go?"

"Call them in, little flower," Rose called back. "I would like to meet them too!"

Lily only nodded though her mum couldn't see it.

For Harry, it was the first time he had visited his grandparents. The house was one in a small community that had small houses of two storeys standing wall to wall, either side of a cobbled street. Some had shops on the ground floor. As such, more often than not, a loud scolding in one house could be heard in the next, and probably the whole street. That explained Petunia's usual, "Don't let the neighbours see/hear!" admonishment.

As awkward as it would have been for Hadrian Jameson, it was a good thing that he could let Harry out sometimes. Nothing short of a slip like calling Rose, Lily, Petunia and Dennis by their respective prospective familial appellations would have caused much awkwardness really. And anyway, he wanted to know what his aunt was like before she became the sort of person he knew her to be.

For Hermione, though, this was her first time actually meeting someone from Lily's side of Harry's family apart from Rose and Matthew. Or, to be precise, it was her first time facing a girl who would grow to be a woman she hated as much as she hated Bellatrix Lestrange. Then again, there never would be a Bellatrix _Lestrange_. So she was required to dissociate Petunia Dursley she had heard and seen of, from Petunia Evans who existed.

So it was that they entered with trepidation. Lily plied them with some tea and was understandably excited. It was at such time that Rose came out to meet the guests with some homemade biscuits. She was pleasantly surprised to see the two children she loved and wasn't supposed to know as far as her daughter was concerned.

"Mum, this is Jane Bennett and this is Hadrian Jameson. They are my classmates," Lily introduced.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Jane, Hadrian," Rose greeted automatically.

"Very pleased to meet you too, Mrs. Evans," they replied, while Jane handed Rose a sheaf of papers, which, given the fact that Lily hadn't even noticed told her that they were for her and Matthew's eyes only. Rose's expression pinched for a moment out of reflex developed over the past year. Then she smiled and nodded.

"Do you live close by?" she asked. Obviously, the two visitors heard the unasked question, " _What happened that you'd to come yourself?_ "

"No, Mrs. Evans," Hadrian replied, cutting his eyes surreptitiously to the papers in Rose's hands. "We slip out of our orphanage every now and then, and go about using the Knight Bus. We are exploring. A trip to _Gringotts'_ and some _galleons_ wisely used and we're even thinking of making a trip up to _Carrow_ Road. We heard that there is a man running a small magical menagerie or something there." Jane displayed a wonderful copy of nervousness as she fidgeted with the chain around her neck.

Rose understood immediately. None of the grandparents had been involved in the planning and execution of the execution of the Carrows, but they had known of it. Well, everyone except Dorea had known of it, anyway. They had all been very careful and avoided mentioning the Carrows around the woman on Charlus' advice. The chain was that of the all-too-familiar Time Turner. Obviously, the operation was already underway even as they spoke.

They exchanged pleasantries for a while before Rose smiled and left, deftly taking along the sheaf. Lily, excited as she was, jabbered a mile a minute as she showed them her home, her and Petunia's room which Hadrian wouldn't enter because it was too pink, and introduced them to Petunia and Dennis. Jane flushed a bit as she remembered life as Hermione Granger. The parallels between Lily and her were never more pronounced than at that moment. She had only ever heard of the woman, but it had never truly registered with her how the descriptions of one often described the other.

Dennis was enthralled by his sister's friends.

"You are actually cool!" he enthusiastically declared. "I thought all magicals were idiotic gits like that Snape boy!"

"Why? What'd he do?" asked Hadrian coldly.

"He always tells me that I got magic by mistake."

Lily's eyes flashed at that. "Is that so?" she demanded. "You should have told me Dennis. He would know which way is up pretty soon," she half-snarled.

"You never liked to hear anything against him anyway," Dennis replied dismissively. "Sev is my best friend!" he squealed in a high-pitched imitation of his sister. "Sev, Sev, Sev... That's all you ever said."

 _I had been rather blind, it seems,_ mused Lily. _Distance has certainly told me more about Severus than I knew about him._

"You don't worry about dear old Snivellus," Hadrian remarked. "He will learn the meaning of the word mistake pretty soon. You know where he lives?"

"Yeah," replied Petunia with a haughty sniff, entering the conversation for the first time. "Spinner's End is close enough. Third left down the street, and then take a right."

"I suppose you don't particularly like him either?"

"He has got Lily's head turned with all that freakish magic business," Petunia sniffed again, disdainfully this time. "If Dennis is better than her, he will reject it all and..."

"And he will become a bitter individual like you and Severus," snapped Jane. The word 'freakish' had affected Hadrian though only she knew him well enough to know that. "You know, you two should get together sometime. There's more similarity between you and Severus than anyone else we know."

"So rudeness and detesting us _muggles_ ," Petunia shot back archly with a sneer, "it that by default among magicals?"

"I would ask you a similar question since you behave just like the magicals we know who hate muggles. There's not much of a difference after all," Hadrian finally retorted. He turned to Lily and nodded to Rose who was standing behind her. Petunia, just like Severus, always knew where and when to show her distasteful behaviour. For Snape, it was when Lily wasn't around. For Petunia it was when her parents weren't around.

"Well it is freakish and it should be removed however it can be! Why should some have it and others shouldn't? That makes the few who have it unnatural freaks..." Petunia started, but Rose cut her off.

"That is quite enough. When Lily told on you, I had thought it was just a phase. You will not voice your opinions on all things just out of spite. Do you understand?" the mother asked in carefully controlled voice. "I will not have you picking fights with guests!"

Petunia looked at Lily and Rose scornfully as she rushed away.

"Lily, please wait outside."

Lily had rarely seen her mother dress Petunia down. She just had. So she obediently complied.

"Was it always like this?" Rose wearily asked.

"For a child less than two years of age it was considerably worse," bit out Jane. "She is just a muggle Death Eater - she and that fat bastard of a husband of hers!"

Hadrian placed a calming hand on her forearm. "Calm down love. She is still young. If we are giving everyone else a chance, we are giving her one as well."

"They hurt you!"

"She still is my Aunt. She still is mum's family."

"Yes. Then she should not have set your pig of a cousin and her husband on you to do her dirty work for her," Jane snarled. "I won't ever care what happens to her."

Rose knew she should be saying something in her daughter's defence. But then the accusations were from her grandchild – or someone who loved him.

"That's all I ask. We won't interfere in her life in any manner, Grandmother."

Rose only nodded in response.

"Anyway, I'd been working on this," he continued, changing the subject, and handing Rose what looked like a bunch of numbered stickers. There were four thousand and ninety six of them. She checked to see that they were rune-sheets. "Keep them somewhere with lots of paper, and when they run low, they will replicate. Stick these around the house on the outside and everywhere else in the area if you can find. These have a comprehensive intent-based wards based on the notice-me-not charm. Stick them around and the Death Eaters won't care. Works for imperiused people too. Don't affect the electricity and stuff. One of the schemes prevents people from noticing the stickers. If I may suggest stick them on electricity poles too. Riddle knows about electricity and targeted the power networks."

Rose nodded appreciatively. The construction and the muggle area meant that the usually cast wards were infeasible. These would work.

"Thank you, little ones," she said, gathering the two in a hug which was returned.

"So what is in those papers?"

"We have questions. We have a trip outside England to plan, but the political climate being so different from our time..."

"Where is it that you need to go?"

"The USSR," Jane replied. "Riddle's got some impressed there; apparently they are worse than he is. They are called the Cult of Rasputin."

The colour drained from Rose's face as she realised just how big a task they were planning for.

* * *

 **At the same time**

* * *

While their time-displaced doppelgängers were visiting the Evans' home, the real M-H and F-H were taking on a pair of rather disgusting creatures.

As it happened, the Carrows really did live in Norwich, though nowhere close to the Carrow Road Stadium which served as the home for the Canaries. They lived on the borders of The Broads, on the outskirts of Wickhampton, on an unplottable 'farm'. They reared cattle there, but if people accused Aberforth of casting inappropriate charms on goats, then the very existence of whatever they called as a farm was thoroughly, disgustingly, immoral and illegal.

Breaking into the place, once they knew where to find them was easy. The place was unplottable, and not under the Fidelius. So once they kept an eye on the commercial centre of magical Britain, it was easy to find Alecto. She was no potions mistress and needed some.

The wards were nothing to speak of. Two wards, one that drove muggles away by confusion and another that burnt unwanted visitors attempting entry by force with a severity depending on how forcible they were being, were the only noteworthy obstacles. One more ward was there that worked as a very powerful detention spell for anything and everything.

"You want to bring the wards down completely?" M-H asked F-H. "I don't like the look of this last one."

"No need. I think it will be enough if we wear them out in a corner and slip in. Bringing the wards down will bring undue attention. We will have to redo this last thing, in fact. I never thought I'd agree with Death Eaters."

And that was a very valid point. The fifty-four-year-old Carrow Twins that the two had had the misfortune of meeting in 1998 were the dregs of the Death Eaters, so thoroughly incompetent and disgusting that even there fellows wanted to keep them away. There wealth had grown exponentially sometime during the mid-eighties when there was a perplexing boom in demand for various animal poisons. The Carrows had been there to snap up this demand and supply the poisons – including that of Acromantulae ** _and_** basilisks. It was widely believed that the Carrows were privy to the special magics of magical cross-breeding. It was also known as flesh-forming.

It was also for that very reason why it was not wise to bring down the wards. As much as they kept people out, they also kept whatever there was a probability of there being within the premises in.

The easiest way to break a ward was to apply drains around the area that they intended to affect. The smaller the area they wanted to break the war at, the lesser the number of drains that were required. A drain was nothing more than any spell that could trigger the ward's response.

They opened a small hole in the scheme, just large enough for them to sneak in. They kept levitating on a pair of discs that had been enchanted for just that purpose. There was no telling what they'd step on.

Almost immediately, they were set upon by a buffalo crossed with a thestral.

It would have been a most singularly terrifying sight if they hadn't been expecting something similar or worse. An African Water Buffalo, with all its bulk and the horns, and with the leathery wings, blank eyes and the equine abdomen had rendered a very odd creature in its wake. Jane was the first to react and had shot three fireballs down the braying creature's throat, killing it from within seconds.

"That..."

"...was grotesque," completed Hadrian, as he treated another of the Thestrals-Buffaloes to the same end.

It was only sensible that they use the Dead-Sense Spell and complete disillusionment while they redid the containment ward. This did not render them beyond the animals' senses, but it did confuse the animals as no other way apart from minute vibrations due to breathing, heartbeats and the sound of displaced air as the discs zipped towards the house, was available to pinpoint their locations.

The house was nothing larger than a barn – the sort of thing that seemed thrown together just because it was customary for humans to have something resembling a house when entertaining guests. It also had no lock, one ward to detect entry and that was it. It was a piece of cake to disable, particularly if someone was entering expecting something at least like that.

To say that the place was Spartan was an understatement. It was not furnished. Clothes were strewn haphazardly on various pegs and stands, presumably to dry.

Suddenly they were startled by an emaciated, bedraggled elf. Its ribs were jutting out of its thin, frail body.

"Master and Miss are being busy. Who is you being? Dicky tells master immediately."

M-H didn't need any prompting. The Elder Wand was snapped out and an overpowered "Obliviate!" put the pitiful thing out of commission temporarily.

"Animalium Revelare!" hissed F-H. There were no other beings in the house apart from two pulsing beings in the upstairs room.

The two slowly made their way towards their quarry and disabled the locking charms. They had caught their victims-to-be in a very horrible position. It took all their training to not even utter a protest in disgust at the act.

The Carrows were **_close_** ; really, really **_close_**. And M-H and F-H found out just how close the two siblings were.

The first thing the two Hands did when they Imperiused the two...people, was to practically scream at them to stop their...business. A long interrogation that revealed the locations of an Acromantula farm, several documents on the animal experiments, aided and abetted by their late 'good friend' (their usual partner in group activities) Marcellus Rookwood and his son Augustus. Thankfully, the Rookwoods were not by any means promised anything from the Carrow estate after Marcellus' death. Then they were forced to sign on the new will. Stealing the gold was one thing. But there was also land – a very important resource considering their future plans.

They also verified the vault details. It always paid to double-check things.

Alecto and Amycus soon went around to the Ministry to register this new will. The stipulation was that the estate would go to anyone who could produce 'The Slicer', a magical artefact that was used in flesh-forming, and one that only they had, would be the next Heir. The Slicer was promptly confiscated. The inheritance could be handled in private. Following that Alecto was forced to give Dicky clothes. The poor thing, which only remembered that it was an elf, was left there for the little while it would take for them to go about their business of the day.

The Hands were required to be thorough.

The two heaven-sent mercenaries immediately made their way to Gringotts.

"So, what is the way to steal from Gringotts'?"

M-H smiled a feral smile. "Remember the Zarthrok's crystals? For the goblins, these are practically the lifeblood for their bank. This is not only because of them being excellent magical capacitors. They are the best emulators for Goblin magic."

"And?" prompted F-H, as they stood on a corner close to the bank while M-H checked his tools.

"And I may have had a meeting with old Pinch of the Hook clan, who coincidentally has a son called Griphook. Pinchhook may have revealed that this crystal is what works within the doors and that the crystal in the lock has a stored set of magical signatures which are matched when the goblins finger the lock."

"And I presume Pinchhook has no knowledge of the meeting and that his magical signature has been emulated, or that he has revealed that their most precious object is their most terrible dependency and could be their fall."

"None at all," M-H replied as he grinned back. "Come on."

In anticipation for this visit, the two had borrowed the Invisibility Cloak from Charlus. Both donned it, and with the discs which were now coupled and which only now F-H realised had the crystals embedded into them, flew down to vault 474, the Carrows' vault. She watched as M-H donned a glove with the fingertips and the palm area again affixed with the crystals, which he ran down the length of the lock, unlocking it. Once it was open, he carefully closed it behind him.

"Check for curses."

She did. There were none. She hurriedly shovelled the entire contents of the vault into her trademark Undetectably Extended Bags. M-H opened the door from within, and cast a powerful notice-me-not charm on the vault that would end in about thirty-five hours, and then they once again donned the cloak, and took off.

It was a successful heist. And it also told them that the goblins were in the habit of dipping into vaults as they were unimpeded. They had stayed within the bank to check if any alarms had gone off. They hadn't.

At the end of the hour, they returned to the Carrows' place, and ended up felling most of the beasts, keeping only a few specimens alive of each. Hagrid could be persuaded to study them. These specimens were trapped into stasis and ever-lasting ice and then shrunk. Dicky the house-elf was treated similarly. They were saving him from certain death, and all help was appreciated.

Then they turned their attention to the stunned Carrow siblings. A lethal alcohol-based poison, which would kill them in thirty-six hours of severe dehydration and would be effective till about a hundredth of its dosage value was left in the body, was injected.

They would visit the Alley in spite of their dehydration. The two would die just outside Gringotts' just after accusing the Hook clan of stealing their wealth. The complaint would be made to the joint complaints board consisting of one senior goblin from each of the seventeen clans. The poison would remain undetected as a large amount would evaporate through their sweat.

The anonymous tipper who informed the clans about the smuggling cartel and the theft would then trade the information that a goblin named Griphook had asked certain parties for help against the clans and would be offering the secret of Goblin-made items in return. An inquiry would be launched against the clan and since the last signature would be of a member of the Hook clan, and with the information about Griphook, Goblin justice would be served, internally, with reparations being made.

It was an elaborate execution-cum-revenge-cum swindling plan.

* * *

James was rocking on the balls of his feet as the muggle installed a whole bunch of wires and the telephone instrument in the new muggle-visible outhouse that father had had constructed. It was one of the set of three such connections in a place not belonging to a muggleborn – newblood, as Dad and Mum now called them. The Longbottoms had one, as did Hogwarts and so did they. James was unsure why it was so, but then he was excited. If nothing else, he could just call somebody just for fun.

It was not surprising. James Potter being James Potter, his mind would fly towards prank calls, and the idea of thousands of people, though only muggles and no other wizards or witches, on whom to pull pranks, made him shiver in anticipation. He would soon learn about telemarketers, however.

"Jamie?" called Darrene, tugging on her brother's sleeve.

"Yes?"

"Why are we getting this thing?"

"So that we can talk to muggles," he answered. "They don't use Owls, and this is way faster."

"Really?" she asked, surprised. "They can make better things without magic?" Darrene had never been exposed to the other side of the Great Divide.

"Yes. I have got many muggleborn friends in my year. Lily told me they have aeroplanes which can fly many people through the sky in one aeroplane at the same time."

Darrene was suitably impressed. Then she had another question.

"Who will we talk to though? How do we send them the telephone?"

"We call them by punching the numbers. It is like they have a special number-name. I asked Da."

"But who do we call? We don't know people!"

"Mum does, actually. You know what Uncle Arcturus was talking about? Mum met many of the people and got the phone numbers of the people who have phones. Many do, now. There will be muggleborn in your year. You can talk to them as well."

"So you can talk to that Lily girl?" Darrene teased.

James scowled. "Are you teasing me? I won't tell you anything then."

"Touchy, you are," Darrene teased.

"Why you little..." started James. Darrene's laughter rang through the house as James chased after her.

* * *

 ***** The Film Grimmauld Place is in the Borough of Islington.

^ Credit to Der-la-Croix for the term 'flesh-forming'.


End file.
